


Awakenings

by Xylianna



Series: Awakenings [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Complete, Depression, F/F, F/M, Gen, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 90,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/pseuds/Xylianna
Summary: Daryl spent a decade living a life not her own until the day Kefka moved the Statues out of alignment.One year later, Celes woke up on a tiny island in a brave new world.Together, they set forth to defeat Kefka and restore Balance to the Ruin.  Along the way they find friends and enemies, joy and despair.  But most importantly: they find themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, AO3! This is my NaNoWriMo project for 2017. It is the first story longer than a few hundred words I've written in well over a decade, so I apologize for the dusty nature of my writing. :) I was always fascinated by Daryl from the first time I played this game on my SNES as a child, so I decided to do a little "what if Daryl didn't die" scenario. I was also always a bit put off by certain details of the World of Ruin (no main characters die, except Shadow if you don't wait for him? really?), and I decided to just start writing and see what I came up with.
> 
> While I do have a very kind and patient beta, I am completely open to any and all suggestions and construction criticisms anyone might have to offer. Just be gentle. <3
> 
> At this time, the story is not complete, but it is at the requisite 50k for winning NaNo. I can't promise it will be complete soon with the holiday season looming over us (Happy Thanksgiving all who celebrate!), but it will be completed. I can't get it out of my head.
> 
> I'll update tags and the characters listing as needed, as I go. 
> 
> Okay, I've become that person with a novel length author's note. Now, on to the story!

Daryl was tired.

The last year had been bleak. She awoke one day half falling into a chasm that had inexplicably opened up in the middle of her garden. She was confused enough finding herself gardening, but the puzzle of her horticultural pursuits was far overshadowed by the heart rending terror of the world itself splitting asunder beneath her feet.

Fortunately, luck favored her on that dark day, and she was able to scramble to safety. After hours that seemed years, the world quieted. Everything was dark, and a menace seemed to pervade the air… but things were still and silent, save for the sounds of people weeping as they tried to find their loved ones, or found their loved ones’ corpses.

Daryl sat in the midst of her ruined garden. When had she planted a garden? What town was she in? The last thing she remembered was an exhilarating airship ride, racing against her lover, and boasting that she was going to soar so high she could touch the stars. Then, pain. Then, nothing.

She didn’t have much time to dwell on the how and the why. She got a vague idea of the “when” - it seemed there was about a decade unaccounted for between the race and the garden. She assumed that she suffered some sort of head injury - crashed her airship perhaps - and was living in this town since without a memory, she’d have nowhere to go.

Daryl still had nowhere to go. The bolts of magic that had ravaged the world left part of her town sequestered on a small island. She could see nothing but purple water as far as the eye could see.

Her small garden, tended by more than just her now, and fish - along with the occasional bird - sustained the villagers well enough, physically.

But food alone wasn’t enough to keep them going mentally.

One by one, Daryl watched her compatriots succumb to the despair. Some were lonely, having lost all they held dear. Some were bored, having lost all purpose and ambition. Some were just unable to wrap their minds around the literal end of the world that seemed at hand.

A spire rose on one end of the island, rocks pushed together into a peak by the magical attack on tectonic plates. First in horror, but then in numb camaraderie, Daryl watched as the people climbed it. Sometimes a month would pass between journeys, sometimes a mere hour.

They would climb. They would stare off the edge. And they would jump.

Today, Daryl was awoken by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the rock shore beneath the cliffs. _He couldn’t stand it any longer_ , she thought. _Now I really am alone._ The previous day Daryl had spent most of her waking hours speaking with her now deceased companion, taking him fishing with her, making him eat a couple times, hell, she even tried to seduce him. Anything to prevent this from happening. But she failed. She had tried to save several others. Perhaps she just wasn’t meant to save the world.

But, maybe she could save one person.

Rising from her bed, she walked across the small ramshackle cottage, and looked down at the body lying in the other bed. A comatose woman wasn’t exactly good company, though caring for her had given Daryl some small purpose outside of bare existence. Maybe someday the other woman would wake up. Daryl entertained herself by creating stories about the mystery woman’s life. Who had she been? What were her dreams? Did she have a family? Would she enjoy flying? What would her voice sound like?

Sighing resignedly, Daryl admitted that now was not the time to stand around woolgathering. Life was no longer as simple as going to the pub for a meal. She had work to do, and no one to help her do it. Picking up a slim branch she used as a makeshift fishing pole, Daryl headed out to the beach to try and catch some breakfast.

A few hours later, she had a respectable catch. Enough fish, that if she put it away properly, could feed her for days. _Not that it’s a problem to fish every day,_ she thought glumly. _Not like I have anything else to do._

When she had first regained her memories, after the earthquakes stopped and things seemed to settle into a new normal, she had spent most her days fixing things. She repaired clocks, stoves, window shutters, anything and everything she could get her hands on and find materials to cobble together. The others were appreciative at first, but it didn’t take long for the novelty of such luxuries to wear off. People were bored. In books, this would be a grand adventure, and the people would band together and defeat the dragon, restoring the light to the world. In reality, people were sad, and the inactivity of enforced boredom gave them ample time to dwell on their dark thoughts.

Daryl and several others kept things going the best they could. They rebuilt enough cottages to give everyone a place to sleep. They caught fish, grew what crops they could, set snares for birds. Heck, they tried to organize others in village scavenger hunts - not children’s games, these, but necessary to their survival.

But, depression lies. It whispers seductively to you, telling you that there is no point, there is no reason to try any more, because your world has already ended.

The first time that someone jumped off the cliff, the entire village was in shock. Sure, things were bleak, but to take one’s own life? That was unthinkable!

But, then another followed suit two months later.

And another.

And another.

Within six months of the breaking of the world, only three people remained, and one of them was in a coma.

Now Daryl felt truly alone. Her tenuous hold on sanity was the responsibility she felt in caring for the mystery woman trapped in unconsciousness. But she knew it was a matter of time before that wasn’t enough.

So she threw herself back into her work. Daryl fished every morning and night, salting and preserving what she didn’t need to eat, or make into broth for her ward.

She tinkered with anything and everything she could find, getting ideas of what she could use to make a raft or a boat or something to get off this Goddesses forsaken island, if the other woman ever woke out of it, for Daryl couldn’t imagine leaving her helplessly behind, but couldn’t fathom making such a dangerous journey with such a liability.

Daryl started to teach herself to hunt. Other villagers had taken care of this task, but now it fell to her. She used small throwing daggers, finding it similar enough to throwing darts for sport, that she usually hit close to her target. Any animals not immediately taken down by her knives, she made sure to mercifully kill as quickly as possible once they were incapacitated.

She read. Amazingly enough considering the fires that had swept the island immediately after the cataclysm, a decent amount of books had survived, squirreled away in chests like the treasures they were.

She daydreamed. Sometimes, Daryl spent entire days reliving moments from her old life as a pampered young socialite turned pilot in the opulent city of Jidoor. She remembered nights at the Opera House with Setzer, her scamp of a lover doing a poor job of hiding his crush on the Prima Donna, Maria. Daryl remembered how he’d taste like the expensive scotch he sipped during intermission, and how she’d joke that she didn’t need her own drink, she got plenty from his lips.

And very carefully, Daryl tried to teach herself how to fight. The rabbits and birds weren’t the only creatures sharing her island, several varieties of twisted beasts - _monsters_ , her brain silently screamed - also shared the land. Daryl used daggers previously only used for hunting for a different type of killing, one that didn’t provide food but was still very necessary to her survival.

Today had been a fighting day, as monsters had gotten the jump on her in the middle of her morning fishing trip. The battle took her until almost midday, but she emerged victorious. Exhausted from the fight and crashing from the adrenaline leaving her system, Daryl decided to take a nap. In the evening she could attempt to fish again, though her reserves would assure she wouldn’t go hungry today. After checking on her slumbering companion, Daryl collapsed into her bed and was immediately asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to post more chapters along with Chapter 1, but my holiday guests arrived, and things got crazy. I have about 55k written in full now with NaNo complete, and I hope to get most of those chapters up soon. Just need to give them good review and edit. Here's the next part! :)

_The world seems dimmer than it should be_ , was the first conscious thought Celes Chere had entertained in a year’s time. Pushing herself to be sitting upright in bed, the former general pushed tangled blonde hair back from her face, as if that was the obstacle blocking the light. Everything was darker than normal, the world stuck in a perpetual twilight, despite the clock on the mantle reading 1:00.

She tried to stand, so she could walk outdoors and try to ascertain where she was, but waves of dizziness overwhelmed her, and she half fell back to be sitting again. Celes cursed under her breath in frustration. She felt incredibly weak. After taking a few moments, she tried again, pushing her hand against the nearby wall for balance, and moving very slowly.

This time, she was successful. She moved around the perimeter of the small, one room cottage slowly, leaning heavily against the wall. Making it to the doorway, she went outside, and her jaw dropped.

She saw a small beach, and then waves. Endless waves, with nothing on the horizon. Walking a few shaky steps away from the safety of the solid walls, she turned a slow circle, looking as far as she could. It seemed she was on an island, perhaps a square mile or so of land, surrounded on all sides by water as far as her eyes could see. There were several other small houses, in similar patched up fashion to the one she had emerged from.

And then she saw a woman.

The woman walking towards her was of average height and had honey-brown hair tied back in a messy tail. Dark brown eyes were wide, regarding Celes in shock. She wore grime-stained farm clothes and carried a fishing pole, and what Celes could only assume was a stringer full of fish.

“You’re awake!” the woman closed the distance with quick, efficient steps, lifting a hand to feel Celes’s forehead as if checking her temperature, leaning forward to peer into her eyes closely, before stepping back a pace. “You’re really awake!”

“Y-yeah,” Celes stuttered, her voice rough from disuse. “How long was I… asleep?”

“It’s been about a year, the best I can figure”, the other woman admitted, crossing her arms and regarding Celes keenly. “You washed ashore unconscious, and we took care of you the best we could. I wasn’t sure you’d ever wake up.” She seemed to grow a bit manic, words coming more rapidly, making up for lost time and taking advantage of the opportunity to sate her curiosity. “Who are you? What’s your story? Do you have family? Friends? Do you like fish?” She grinned at the end of her inquisition, holding up her morning’s catch.

To say Celes was overwhelmed would be an understatement, but she allowed herself a small chuckle to try and release some nervous energy. “Slow down. Please. I don’t suppose there’s coffee?” She took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. “I’m Celes, former general of the Empire, turned Returner. My story?” she laughed humorlessly. “Well, I grew up a loyal Imperial Magitek Knight, and then I turned traitor and fought for the other side.” She looked up at the scorched sky. “Looks like we lost.”

After taking a few moments to compose herself, she continued. “I never knew my family. I was raised by the scientist who infused me with magic. Friends though… I had friends. Who knows if any of them survived.” Celes took a few steps, looking around. “How many people are here? Is there anything else left, or is this island… the world?”

Before the other woman could answer, Celes interjected again, “And I’m sorry, but who are you? If you’d told me while I was… asleep… I don’t remember.” she tried to joke about her previously comatose state.

“I’m Daryl”, the other woman offered a handshake with her words. “I was the world’s best pilot before I, embarrassingly, seem to have crashed, and spent years in whatever village this used to be, before the end of the world.” What started as bragging, quickly turned morose. “I have no idea if any of my family survived, or, well… really anybody else.”

“As to this island, there’s just us. There used to be others, but…” Daryl trailed off, and gestured towards the spire to the north. “They couldn’t keep living in this world.” She hung her head in sadness for a long moment, before looking at Celes again. “I buried what I could find of them at the base of the cliffs.”

Celes had gone still and silent as soon as she heard the other woman give her name. She paled as the bragging statements confirmed her guess. She paled even whiter hearing of the horror Daryl had endured, in watching all her fellow villagers kill themselves. But despite the dark turn Daryl’s narrative had taken, Celes just had to know if her guess was right. “You knew Setzer, didn’t you?” she asked cautiously, unsure what the other woman’s reaction would be.

If she’d been in motion, Daryl would have been said to have tripped. Can one trip when standing still? “You knew him? How was he? Was he happy? Was he flying?” Her voice dropped in pitch and volume when she asked, “Did he try to find me?” Her eyes showed a myriad of emotions ranging from shock to hope, and underneath it all, love.

Celes filled Daryl in on all of their adventures, from the first time she met Setzer while impersonating the Opera star Maria, to their frantic hunt for Kefka on the floating continent, and the ill fated moving of the Warring Triad that caused the world to shatter. She told her of all her friends. Edgar, the flirt with a heart of gold. Shadow, the deadly assassin. Terra, the powerful mage full of childlike wonder. Cyan, the chivalrous swordsman who was perplexed by simple machinery. Relm, the precocious artist. And so many more. Celes felt happy as she recalled all her friends. Even though they had been in constant peril, and the war they fought was terrible, they had enjoyed good times when they could. Celes remembered when they took Gau to the shops of Jidoor to dress him for meeting his father for the first time, and the way all the men bickered and tried to dress the feral youth like themselves, making him look ridiculous, until she and Terra had taken over to dress the boy in a respectable, and simple, suit.

She remembered the thief (that’s TREASURE HUNTER!), Locke Cole.

Was Locke alive? Her last memories before waking on this island were of the Blackjack being torn asunder and her friends falling off.

Well. She survived. Surely some others did, too.

The two women talked the rest of the afternoon and long into the night. One thing was for certain: they had to get off this island. They had to see if anyone else survived, or if they two were all that remained of humanity. But first, they had to prepare. Celes had to get stronger. Strategizing until the muted starlight bled into dawn, they eventually went to sleep, knowing they would need the energy.

When they woke, they’d be one day closer to leaving the island.


	3. Chapter 3

The two women rose early despite their late night, neither able to stay abed long, both eager to be on their way. There was so much to do. Daryl went on her usual morning fishing trip while Celes inventoried whatever she could find in the remnants of the unnamed village on the island, not sure what would be useless, and not willing to pass by something that could help. She chuckled a bit wryly to herself. _If I had to get marooned on a deserted island, at least it’s with an airship engineer._

After an hour or so, Daryl returned from the beach with her catch, and the two broke their fast hurriedly, before Celes showed Daryl everything she was able to scrounge up.

“Well, we won’t be taking to the skies any time soon,” Daryl said, grinning. “But, I think I can come up with something to get us off this hunk of rock. I didn’t spend the last year just fishing, you know.” With a mischievous wink, she went into the house, and emerged a moment later with the plans she had spent the last few months working on.

The next week was filled with long days and short nights as the two worked together to craft a boat that would hopefully be seaworthy enough to get them to whatever mainland was left in the wake of Kefka’s temper tantrum.

Daryl was feeling better than she had in months. While caring for Celes in her comatose state had given her a reason to wake up each morning, this was her craft. This was her pride and joy. It felt good to be using her brain again on a tricky project instead of just the bare bones needed for survival. Yes, she wasn’t going to be flying anytime soon, but this she could do. She could build a vessel, she could get them off the island, she could find Setzer, and Celes’s other friends, and maybe that gambler would still have his airship. It may have been inferior to her beloved Falcon, but flying was flying, and she would jump at the chance to be airborne once more.

Similarly, Celes was in good spirits. She hadn’t had to endure the horrors of this lonely world as long as Daryl had, but she had pushed through her initial shock at what she had woken up to, and was certain that once they found land - they would find people. She would find Locke. She would find all her friends.

And Kefka would pay.

They would heal the world somehow.

Things would be good again.

They would.

Finally, the boat was complete. It was a bit of a wreck, cobbled together from pieces of walls and doors, bed sheets sewn together for sails, farm tools fashioned into a crude rudder. Daryl took it on a test run, sailing around the entire island and ending up back at the beach she had launched from after a few hours.

Hopping into the surf she called out to Celes, “Well, it didn’t sink!”

Celes rolled her eyes. “I can see that.”

“No leaks, either,” Daryl continued unfazed, looking over the hull carefully, running her fingers over every plank and seam.

The ex-Imperial Magitek Knight stepped closer to look over the ship herself, gray eyes betraying an excitement she was trying not to show. “It looks good. You’ve done remarkable work, Daryl.”

The pilot grinned, planting a fist on one cocked hip. “Damn right I did!” She laughed, throwing back her head, delighting in the feel of the muted sunshine on her face and the wind in her hair.

“So what do you say,” Daryl asked after she calmed down, “We leave tomorrow?”

“I’ll start packing!” Celes joined the laughter still echoed in her new friend’s voice, and they ran up to their old cottage, to prepare to leave it for good.

They sorted through all the items they had collected from all the houses around the village, deciding which were absolutely necessary, which would be nice but could be left behind, and which were luxuries they couldn’t afford to spend pack space to carry.

Curatives were a must, and fortunately the cellar beneath the burned hull of a building which had been the item shop had chests full of potions, antidotes, and even a couple elixirs. They also selected the sturdiest clothing they could find, blankets, cook pots and utensils, spare boots close enough to their sizes to work, and other essentials. But most of their pack space went to water bottles and food supplies. Daryl would be bringing her fishing gear, of course, but there was no guarantee they would find sufficient food, so they packed everything from their stores that they could carry. And freshwater could be scarce on an ocean voyage, so they collected everything they could, boiled it, and filled everything water tight enough to serve as an adequate container.

Finally, they took a break for dinner, and then Daryl went for one last fishing trip while Celes double checked that they had packed everything they thought they might need, while not making the packs unreasonably large and heavy.

Stars shone feebly in the ravaged sky, most of their light subdued by the scars of Kefka’s magic in the atmosphere. But inside their cabin, the hearth fire burned bright and cheery, staving off the darkness a bit while the women prepared for bed.

Celes felt herself growing introspective. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked across the one-room cottage towards Daryl. “What if we’re the only ones left?” she asked frankly. “I mean, I fell off an airship. I’m not sure how I survived. Maybe my magic kept me alive, healed me. How could any of my friends have survived? Maybe Terra, her magic was always far more powerful than mine, but the others? Our ship was torn apart, Daryl,” Celes’s voice broke as her eyes filled with tears. She continued to speak even as the tears began to trail down her cheeks. “I saw pieces of the Blackjack fall. The ship literally broke in half. I watched my friends get sucked off the ship. Setzer clung to the wheel as long as he could, trying to keep the nose up, but…” she trailed off a moment. “What if we’re it? What do we do then?”

Daryl had remained quiet while Celes vented her fears. She was asking valid questions. It was a miracle that Celes had survived. Hell, it was miraculous anyone had survived the last year after Kefka’s mayhem was fully unleashed, but here they were, alive, and she’d be damned if she wouldn’t do everything she could to stay that way.

“We survive,” Daryl spoke with conviction. “Even if we can’t find anyone else in the entire world. We survive.” Her brown eyes were filled with determination. “We find a way to fix our world. We destroy Kefka.”

She rolled her shoulders, trying to physically lighten her mood, and when she spoke again, it was with a markedly more cheerful tone. “Besides, you and I, we both lived through airship crashes - surely some of your friends survived, too.”

Celes nodded slowly. “I hope you’re right, Daryl.”

“I usually am,” the pilot bantered back with a wink.

Celes laughed. “Well, with your confidence, and my fighting skills, we’ll defeat Kefka in no time!”

“Exactly!” Daryl said with obviously forced cheer, the momentary smile fading from her eyes, though her lips were still quirked in the expression. “Now, let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a strenuous day.”


	4. Chapter 4

They set off the next morning, full of excitement at starting a journey they were certain would reward them in short order with finding land, people, and even loved ones. The sea air, while still carrying the taint of destruction flavoring everything in this post-apocalyptic world, was invigorating. They had no trouble catching fish as they went, the protein a necessary and welcome supplement to the supply of stored roots and vegetables from the island, their dried fish having run out in the first few days.

Along the way they talked at length, having little else to do besides fish and sail.

Celes spoke of growing up in the Empire, learning to use magic, learning to sword fight. She explained how she left the Empire, no longer able to turn a blind eye to Gestahl’s greed or Kefka’s insanity. About meeting the Returners and joining their fight against the Empire, discovering the Land of the Espers, witnessing the terrifying split of land as the Floating Continent rose into the heavens under the magical power of the statues.

Celes spoke of meeting a man and beginning the long, slow fall into love, her voice wistful, unaware of how the serene smile softened her battle hardened features. She spoke of the heart wrenching fear she felt when she watched Locke tumble over the rail of the Blackjack. She admitted her curiosity regarding if their love would have grown fully-fledged, or tapered off after the initial attraction waned.

In turn, Daryl spoke of growing up to indulgent parents in Jidoor. She was their only child and quite spoiled at that. Of meeting Setzer and egging each other on. Of studying math and science and shipbuilding, until she cobbled together her first pitiful attempt at an airship. She spoke of the Falcon with the same dreamy, wonder struck tone as the spoke of the first time she and Setzer made love.

Of the presumed crash, she spoke little. Of the race preceding it, she spoke at length, and often. Each time she told the story, it grew more fantastical. She flew so fast she outpaced the sun! She flew so high she touched the clouds!

Daryl also spoke of her life in the small, unnamed hamlet, but that was largely unremarkable. Robbed of her memories, she had settled into a quite pedestrian existence, gardening and chatting with neighbors. Daryl had always had the feeling there was so much more for her in life than tilling fields, and in an especially guilty voice, admitted to being almost grateful for Kefka disturbing the Goddesses, since the upheaval restored her memory and got her back on track with her life, such as it was.

The women spoke of their hopes and dreams, and more realistically, of their fears. Daryl had been alone for so long, that she was half convinced there were no people left. And the longer they sailed without sight of a shore, she became convinced that their solitary island was the only land remaining unbroken. The endless brakish, purple waters may have given them fish, but it gave no comfort.

Celes was terrified that none of her friends had survived. That Locke had not survived. She had seen - had felt - the Blackjack being torn to pieces. She had watched in horror as friends were flung off the pieces of the ship in every direction. But, each time she asked herself how anyone could survive such an ordeal, she reminded herself that she had. If she had survived the end of the world, surely Locke, and all their friends, had also survived.

The women had been traveling for almost three weeks when suddenly, Daryl dropped her hold on the rudder and stood, nearly knocking their food stores into the sea. “LAND! I SEE LAND!” she whooped, doing a careful little dance. “We did it, Celes! We made it!”

Celes’s jaw dropped as the rocky shore came into more detail. Definitely larger then the island had been, though it still looked odd, like a long road made of land rather than wide expanses of fields or forests.

But, it was land, and she wasn’t going to complain.

Daryl deftly guided the ship to the shore, both women jumping out when they got into the shallows, dragging on ropes to tow the small vessel the rest of the way up the beach. After tying off the lines securely and unloading all their provisions, they sat down to a quick lunch of - what else? - fish and vegetables, then divided up their possessions into their respective packs, and set forth onto land. Celes had scrounged up some paper and writing utensils in the island village wreckage, and used it to plot a chart of sorts, making a haphazard map of their journey inland.

They were glad for the weapons they had carried along, too. Monsters were everywhere - fortunately, the women were able to run from the few creatures too large to handle. And to Daryl’s surprise, Celes had a surprisingly strong magical arsenal at her disposal. Daryl hadn’t fully realized what “Magitek Knight” meant, having thought it was some lofty title the Empire granted it’s higher ranking soldiers. But the day that Celes called ice from the sunny skies to freeze a swarm of Delta Beetles, she learned the error of her assumption.

“What the fuck is that?” Daryl shouted, almost dropping her dagger in surprise.

“Blizzara,” Celes replied in confusion. “I did say I was a Magitek Knight, Daryl. I can call on magic in battle.” Celes chuckled. “I told you I learned magic growing up in the Empire.”

“I seriously thought magic was a myth, and you were referring to the Empire’s technology,” the pilot said, shaking her head, looking at the frozen beetles. “Though I suppose, having seen the aftermath of Kefka’s insanity with the Warring Triad, I shouldn’t be surprised that other people can also use real magic.”

Celes grinned. “It’s not all scary.” She laid a hand on the crown of Daryl’s head. “Cure!”

A warm light bathed Daryl for a moment, and her eyes widened. “I feel great! What the hell did you do to me?” She paused a moment, and grinned a bit rakishly, asking, “Can you do it again?”

Celes laughed so hard she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as how they don't have the benefit of looking at a world map to get to land the most efficient way possible... it's taking just a little bit longer.


	5. Chapter 5

_Three weeks later._

They set up camp quickly and efficiently, the routine long established and largely committed to muscle memory from all the practice they had these past weeks. Daryl foraged for foods to supplement their stored rations for dinner, while Celes pitched the tent and built up a fire. While Celes collected water from a nearby stream and set it to boil, Daryl efficiently skinned and butchered the two rabbits she had flushed - an unexpected bounty and welcome break from dried meat. The meat joined what was left of their vegetable stores to make a simple, but hearty stew, both women keeping a wary eye on their surroundings in case the delicious scent would draw the attention of any predators.

Once their appetites were sated, and the campground tidied, the women sat by the fire, neither one ready to attempt sleep quite yet.

“Do you think anyone else is alive?” Celes asked quietly, staring pensively into the fire, her hands clasped white-knuckled in her lap.

“We can’t be the only ones left. We just can’t,” Daryl spoke with determined optimism. “If we survived this long, others have to be out there. If only the sky weren’t so…” she waved a hand towards the sky, still obviously scorched, as one could barely make out any stars. “If I could see the stars, I could navigate. If the entire world weren’t rearranged, I could get us somewhere, anywhere”, her optimism faded into helplessness. “So many ifs, and they don’t give us a damn bit of help.”

Celes sighed. The conversation went the same way each night. “Well, we’ll just keep going til we find something. Someone. What else is there to do? Give up? I won’t. I can’t.” While the woman spoke with conviction, it was largely fueled by false bravado.

“Right,” Daryl agreed a bit curtly, her face closed off and her tone somber. “Well, I suppose I’ll go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Celes acknowledged. “Sleep well.”

Daryl leaned forward and squeezed Celes’s still folded hands with one of her own. “We’ll find them. Your friends. We will.”

Celes managed a watery smile. “And Setzer.”

Daryl returned the smile, albeit with tears shining in her eyes, and she squeezed Celes’s hands again.

For a few long minutes, neither woman moved, eyes unflinchingly locked. So many things can be seen in eyes. The women saw their own feelings mirrored in the eyes of the other - the loneliness, the depression, the ever-growing fatigue of their, so far, fruitless search. Everything about this world was muted, was wrong, was just off.

Despite the intensity of her stare, Celes was still startled when Daryl leaned forward and kissed her.

After a moment of confusion, she kissed her back ardently, grateful to just feel for a while.

When they came together, it was born of a need not caused by lust, but desperation for some light in the darkness of this scarred world.

Hands were buried in hair tinged auburn by the flickering firelight. Bodies were pressed close, so close, as they moved with an almost desperate urgency. The sound of labored breathing mingled with the crackle of the campfire and the ambient noises of the night.

Hours later, they lay entwined in a blanket beside the fire, now dwindled to embers, the soft light of pre-dawn giving the woods an ethereal look.

“That was… unexpected”, Celes murmured, lips brushing against Daryl’s ear, unwilling to move out of the other woman’s personal space. It had been so long since she’d been held so close. Shutting down a momentary flare of guilt, she snuggled closer. She wasn’t sure how long this would last, and she was going to make the most of it while it did.

“It was,” Daryl agreed, one hand stroking through Celes’s hair, gently unraveling the tangles their exertions had left behind.

Celes finally leaned back far enough that she could meet her friend’s eyes. “What does this mean?” she stammered, cheeks flushing, not entirely sure how to ask what she wanted to ask.

Daryl laughed quietly. It wasn’t a malicious laugh, but one of released tension. “I like you, Celes. But, last night, that was just…” she trailed off, wanting to choose the right words.

“Solace,” Celes suggested almost timidly.

“Respite,” Daryl said, wrapping her arms around the other woman in a strong hug.

They smiled at each other in perfect understanding, then rose and began to break camp.

Maybe today would be the day they found other survivors.

It turned out, that day was not in fact, they day they found survivors. But the day after next, they found a village.

“Look!” Celes cried out, pointing to the northeast. “Is that smoke?”

Daryl turned her attention in the direction Celes was pointing and squinted, trying to see better. “That’s definitely smoke.” She increased her pace, Celes matching it wordlessly, the two unable to run laden as they were with such heavy packs, but walking as fast as they could manage. “The real question is, what’s causing the smoke? I know there haven’t been storms recently, but it could have been Kefka’s magic.”

“It could be a village!” Celes argued.

“I know!” Daryl said crossly, her face grim. “Damn it, Celes, I’m trying not to get my hopes up, here.”

A couple hours of walking brought them near enough to see the source of the smoke: it was rising steadily from the chimney of a large house. They had finally found a village, and if the smoke was any indicator, they had found at least one other survivor.

Slowing their pace, the women readied their weapons just in case, Celes easing her sword in its sheath and Daryl gripping a dagger in each hand. They carefully approached the village.

“I think this village is Mobliz,” Celes says quietly. “I’ve been here before. It used to be quite a thriving center of commerce and trade. Well, as much as a town on the Veldt could be.”

“It’s too quiet,” Daryl muttered, not really seeming to hear Celes, her eyes darting everywhere, looking for any sign of life other than the smoke.

They searched the village grounds without venturing into any buildings. They didn’t find any people, but they found evidence of people. There was a small vegetable garden and a coop with some sort of small fowl. Foot prints went every which way, though they all seemed so tiny.

Finally, they came full circle, and found themselves standing in front of the largest building still standing, the house with smoke rising from it’s chimney.

Squaring her shoulders, and nodding at Celes in a signal to prepare herself, Daryl reached out and knocked on the door.

A young man pushed open the door, his chin lifted belligerently. “Yeah? What do you want?”

Daryl made her best approximation of a friendly smile, trying to hide how excited she was to find an actual living person other than herself and Celes. “I’m Daryl. This is Celes. We’ve been alone for months and we decided to travel and look for people.”

“We’re so glad we found you,” Celes enthusiastically said half on top of Daryl’s words. “I was starting to think we were the only people left!”

The young man continued to stand in the door way, eyes flickering between the two women uncertainly. “Okay. Um. Well, there’s a few of us. So, uh, wait here.” He closed the door, shutting the two women on the outside of the house.

Daryl and Celes looked at each other in bafflement. “He didn’t seem terribly excited to see us,” Daryl said drolly. “But we found a person - people - our journey was worth all the hardship. We aren’t alone anymore.”

Celes just nodded tersely, eyes not leaving the shut door, staring at it so intensely you might wonder if she was trying to cast some sort of door vanishing spell.

After a few minutes that felt like years, the door opened again, but this time the open portal framed a short, slender woman with green hair tied back in a high ponytail.

Celes’s jaw dropped. “Terra?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not opting to add a "relationships" tag for Daryl/Celes, or adding the F/F label, since they aren't in a relationship. Tags might change later, depending on the direction the story goes, bit it won't be based off this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Terra Branford stepped forward through the doorway, shutting the door behind her, and offered Celes a somewhat shaky smile. “I…” she paused, took a breath, and started again. “I didn’t think any of you survived.” Her statement ended on a sob, and she threw herself at Celes, grabbing the blonde in a tight hug.

Daryl stood a bit awkwardly to the side, watching the reunion a bit jealously, though her primary feeling was relief at finding other survivors, compounded with joy for Celes at finding one of her lost friends. And if one survived, others could have as well. Setzer could have.

Terra and Celes pulled back from their embrace, and Terra turned to regard Daryl. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners”, she apologized in her soft spoken way. “My name’s Terra. Any friend of Celes is a friend of mine.” Her lips curved in a welcoming smile.

Daryl felt her heart warm at that friendly smile. Goddesses, but it had been so long since she’d seen anyone but Celes smile! All the villagers she’d shared the island with had stopped smiling months ago. “I’m Daryl.”

She wasn’t able to say anything else, as Terra reacted in much the same way Celes did. “Daryl?” the mage spoke with wide eyes. “Setzer’s Daryl? He told us you’d died!”

Daryl chuckled a bit bitterly. “Well, for all intents and purposes, I did. I crashed, I ended up in a tiny town in the backwoods of nowhere, and I had amnesia.” She tried out a cocky grin. “I guess I should really thank Kefka for destroying the world, the cataclysm seemed to jostle my missing memories back into place. I remember the airship race, and then I woke up with the world crumbling beneath my feet.”

Terra had quieted, her smile fading to a more solemn expression as Daryl spoke. “It’s really not something to joke about,” she chided lightly, sounding very matronly for such a young woman.

Celes spoke up gently. “Terra. People all cope in different ways.”

Daryl’s cheeks had flushed at Terra’s remonstrance, and she stood there quietly, fingers fidgeting with the ties on her jacket. “Sorry.”

With another warm smile, Terra said, “Your apology is accepted, but unnecessary. I spoke without thinking.” Turning and reaching behind her, she opened the door. “You both must be exhausted. And hungry! Please, come in, make yourselves at home.”

As the women walked into the house, a chaotic mix of many children’s voices speaking and laughing filled their ears, and they couldn’t help but laugh a bit themselves.

Celes looked around and counted - she thought - a half dozen young ones, seeming to range in age from 2 to 10. There was the young man from before, standing protectively in front of a young woman, the two both appearing just on the cusp of adulthood. There didn’t seem to be any other people.

“These are my children,” Terra said, smiling with a mother’s pride. “When I first came to after… well, _after_ ,” she began to explain. “I was alone. I was scared. So I started walking, and I found myself in Mobliz. And there were no adults to take care of all these children.” She shot an apologetic smile towards the two teenagers before returning her attention to Celes and Daryl. “Duane and Katarin were doing their best to take care of all the young ones, but they were just barely old enough to speak their betrothal vows a month before the ruin. They weren’t prepared.”

Terra laughed softly. “To be honest, neither was I. But I’ve learned so much!” her voice took on an enthusiastic tone.

Daryl asked, “So these children - and you, and Katarin, and Duane - are the only survivors of the entire town? Have you seen any other people?” Her voice was intense, her eyes wide, as if the vision boost would help her to hear every word with more clarity.

One of the children, a boy of perhaps 7, was the one to answer. “No people! Just the monster!”

A little girl shrieked and hid behind Katarin’s skirts.

“A monster?” Celes asked, concern wrinkling her brow.

Terra sighed. “I haven’t been able to defeat it, but I’ve been able to scare it away with my… talents.”

Celes nodded in understanding.

Daryl looked confused. “Talents?” she asked plainly.

Terra’s blushed brightly. “Well, you see,” she began in an uncertain tone. “My mother was human. But my father was an Esper.”

Daryl stared at Terra. She took a breath and opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. She closed her eyes a moment, leaning her head forward and pressing a hand to her forehead, as if soothing a headache.

“Espers are real too?” she asked almost plaintively, turning to Celes.

Celes laughed at the look on Daryl’s face. “I’m afraid so.”

“That isn’t a… problem, is it?” Terra asked almost timidly.

Daryl shook her head. “No! I’m just surprised. So, half-Esper, I suppose you’re an even stronger sorceress than Celes here, huh?” She snickered. “I’m surrounded by mages. I have never felt so under-skilled.”

Terra smiled serenely. “I’m sure you have your own talents, Daryl. After all, Setzer spoke so highly of you.” She turned her attention back to Celes. “Have you found anyone else?”

“No,” Celes shook her head. “I apparently washed up on the island that was all that remained of Daryl’s village. She and the other villagers cared for me for nearly a year until I awoke. But by then, Daryl was the only one left.” She glanced around, and seeing how close some of the children stood, she chose her words carefully. “The others had succumbed to their despair.”

Wide eyes filled with tears showed that Terra understood what Celes alluded to. “Oh,that’s awful!” Now it was Daryl’s turn to get wrapped in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry! And thank you! Thank you so much for taking care of my friend!”

Daryl hugged her back just as hard. “Of course.”

“MAMAAAAAA!” a frantic young voice shouted as several children ran over the clung to Terra’s legs. “Phunbaba is back! He’s back!!”

Terra squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Calm down, children. Stay in the house with Duane and Katarin.” She looked at the newcomers. “Celes, Daryl, I won’t ask you to risk your lives for us, but…”

“You don’t have to ask, Terra,” Celes said, unsheathing her sword.

“I’m in,” Daryl chimed in, daggers appearing in her hands, spinning around with a dramatic flourish.

“Okay,” Terra nodded. “Let’s go.”

Before they even exited the house, they heard roaring and stomping. From the sounds of things, this beast was enormous.

Phubaba was a large, horned, green monster. There was no other word that fit. It was just a monster. Bipedal, ridiculously muscled, and pissed. The woman arrayed themselves before it, not taking eyes off the beast to look at each other. Celes and Daryl held their weapons ready. Terra took a deep breath, closed her eyes, centered herself, and gave over to a trance state, her body blurring and turning from appearing human to appearing like a vaguely human shaped being of pink fire.

Terra screamed, an eerie sound that would never come from a human throat, and began to hurl her magic at Phunbaba.

Celes quickly realized that was the better approach, and she sheathed her sword hastily, preparing her strongest Blizzaga spells to send at the monster.

Daryl, having no magic of her own to call upon, and realizing going into melee range - or even close enough range to throw her daggers - would be foolish, stuffed her weapons in their wrist sheaths and instead monitored her friends’ progress, tossing them curative items as they needed them.

The battle seemed to rage for hours, when really, it couldn’t have lasted more than half of one. Between Terra’s raw power and Celes’s refined precision, aided with Daryl dousing them in potions and ethers, Phunbaba met his demise in short order.

Terra screamed triumphantly, launching into the sky and soaring around in victory.

Celes and Daryl both whooped in joy, grinning at each other and giving a high five.

The children began to come out of the house, after Duane looked to make sure they had heard correctly. They gathered around Celes and Daryl, looking up at the sky where Terra was still cavorting among the clouds.

After a few minutes, Terra drifted down to land a few paces away from the group, kneeling on the ground, palms flat against the dirt, her head hanging down as she breathed heavily from her exertions. With an arcane shimmer, her fiery form faded back to her human guise. When she stood again, her cheeks were pale, and her smile was a bit strained.

“Children… you’re safe,” she whispered, arms drawing several of them close into a group hug.

“You’re so strong, Mama!” one boy shouted.

“Why didn’t you stay pink, you’re so pretty like that!” a girl asked, tugging on Terra’s sleeve.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Katarin murmured, one hand resting protectively upon the barely discernible swell of her stomach.

Duane rested a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. “We’re safe now. Thank you, Terra.” He bowed.

Terra seemed overwhelmed. Celes and Daryl just grinned, incredibly pleased at how the day had gone. They were tired, sore, and filthy, but they found people, they helped save those people, and they were gloriously, amazingly alive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at writing battles. But I did my best.
> 
> And yes, I use a blend of terminology from the original SNES release and the more current re-releases. How's it the kids put it these days? #sorrynotsorry


	7. Chapter 7

“Goodbye, Mama!” “Farewell!” “Come back soon!” “We love you!”

Terra wiped away the tears that streamed down her face, turning back and smiling widely at the children who were there to see her off and waving vigorously, before turning and walking behind Celes and Daryl, away from Mobliz.

“Goddesses, this is hard,” she murmured as she caught up with the other two women.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl offered, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re doing this for them, Terra. You’ll be back to see them soon,” Celes tried to soothe her, though her latter statement rang false. They had no idea how long this journey would take.

It seemed by the best they could tell that the underwater pathway known as the Serpent’s Trench actually made up the land bridge holding Mobliz on one end. They had decided to follow the pathway laid out for them by the violent upheaval caused by the Warring Triad’s dis-alignment, and see what else they could find. Daryl and Celes were feeling far more optimistic than they had before Mobliz, fairly positive that if a village of children survived, surely they would find more human outposts, could recruit more soldiers to their fight against Kefka.

They had spent two weeks in Mobliz setting everything in order, advising Katarin and Duane, and, in the cases of Celes and Daryl, taking some much needed rest before yet again setting off on another long and arduous journey. But they couldn’t put it off any longer.

The scenery was largely unremarkable. They ran into occasional monsters, but nothing so harrowing as Phunbaba. Evenings now also included weapons practice. And much to Daryl’s shock, Terra and Celes tried to encourage her to learn magic.

“This was my father,” Terra said fondly, pressing a small green stone into Daryl’s hands one evening at camp. “Maduin, a leader among his people. His magic is strong, and he has willingly entrusted it to us in our fight against the Empire.” She tsked. “Well, I suppose the Empire’s gone now, and it’s just Kefka we’re after, but… please, take it. Learn his magic.”

Daryl held the rock gingerly, not certain what she was supposed to do with it.

Terra explained that daily meditation with the stone would unlock its secrets, and that it would also help if she kept it on her person as much as possible, preferably touching her skin.

So, Daryl devised a necklace of sorts, the magicite hanging at the hollow of her throat, and each evening after her dagger practice, she sat a bit away from the fire, holding the stone in both hands and staring at it, trying to clear her mind, relax, and attain the meditative trance state that Terra said would do the trick. Fuck, but she felt ridiculous. She was half convinced the other women were pulling her leg. She was a mechanic, not a sorceress!

One night several weeks into their journey up the long land road, Daryl was doing her meditation, and she noticed a flicker in the stone. She nearly dropped the green gem as she leapt to her feet, shouting “TERRA!!” The golden light flickered again, and seemed to blind Daryl for a moment, before she was able to clear her vision of the spots left behind from the bright flare.

To Celes and Terra, it had looked like the stone’s aura, for lack of a better word, had pulsed and expanded outwards to envelop Daryl’s entire body for a few seconds, before dissipating into the night. They ran across the campsite to their friend’s side, each balancing her from one side.

“WHAT the EVERY LOVING FUCK was THAT!?” Daryl asked frantically, seemingly torn between continuing to hold the stone and passing it off to Terra.

Terra reached out and folded Daryl’s hands firmly around the magicite, squeezing her hands gently before she dropped her own hands back to her sides. “That was your first spell, being given to you by my father,” Terra explained.

“You mean you weren’t joking?” Daryl’s brown eyes were wide with shock, and more than a little fear. “This hunk of rock will actually give me magic powers?”

“Yes,” Celes said. “We weren’t joking, Daryl. There are ways to learn magic, even if one isn’t descended from Espers, or infused in a Magitek lab.

Daryl was silent for a long moment. She seemed a bit shell shocked at this revelation. Finally, she reattached the magicite to her makeshift necklace, and looked at Terra.

“So how do I use the magic it… I mean, your father… just gave me?”

Terra smiled. “First, you’ll want to re-attain a calm, meditative state. It will be easier.”

Daryl laughed raggedly. “Yeah, calm, okay, I’ll try.” She let her arms hang limply at her sides after shaking them out a few times, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing for several minutes.

When Terra sensed that Daryl had gotten as calm as she was likely to get, she continued her instructions. “All right, Daryl. My father knew elemental magic. I can’t say for certain which spell you gained first, but fire magic is usually the easiest to learn. The spell he would’ve taught you is called “Fira”. So what you need to do, is visualize fire, say the spell name, and fling your hand forward just as if you were throwing one of those daggers you use. Okay?” Terra smiled, even though Daryl’s eyes were still closed, and the other woman could not see her. “Go ahead and try. And remember to breathe,” she encouraged.

Celes stood back, mentally prepping some light ice magic, just in case the first attempt at Fira was stronger than anticipated.

Daryl exhaled loudly, then took a deep breath, raised one hand, shouted “FIRA!” and flung her hand forward with the same deadly grace she used to propel her daggers.

The bushes in front of the women were enshrouded in flames. The fire was so hot, Daryl took a step back reflexively, staring at the fire she had called with a mixture of apprehension and pride.

“I did it!” she said in a voice that was only slightly shaky. She lifted her hands and looked at them, turning them over, as if she expected to find singe marks, or some other outward trace of the magic she had called. Her knees began to buckle, as the adrenaline spike wore off, and her body, unused to casting magic, let its fatigue be known. “I think I need to sit down,” she said in a slurred jumble as she slumped to the grass, her friends carefully catching her and helping her to ease down, rather than fall.

“Well done!” Celes praised her. “That was amazing! And the more your practice, the stronger it will be. Just like with your daggers, practice will also give you better aim, so that you can burn only what you intend to. Though rather than training muscles, this will be training your mind.”

“For now, though, rest,” Terra stroked Daryl’s sweat matted hair back from her forehead, soothing her much as she would one of her orphans. “You’ve done enough for one evening.”

Daryl managed a wan smile at each of her friends before she tumbled into unconsciousness. When she woke the next morning, she had been considerately tucked into a bedroll by the fire. She was thirsty, ravenously hungry, and felt like she could sleep another day or two. Rising quietly to try and not wake the others, she grabbed her fishing gear, and went off to try and catch something fresh for breakfast.

Casting her line into the water with practiced ease, Daryl settled cross-legged onto the bank to wait for a bite. Her mind was racing, still processing the events of the night before. Magic. _She_ had used magic. She laughed softly, a bit sardonically. Who would have ever thought a spoiled Jidoorian debutante would learn sorcery? Though to be fair, she had already pushed back against societal expectations by studying science and engineering, not to mention actually building and piloting her own airship.

Her thoughts drifted to Setzer as they often did when she thought of her beloved Falcon. Now that she’d had a little over a year since regaining her memories, and getting used to this broken world, to process things, she wondered more and more often how he wasn’t able to find her. He had _ten years_. He had an airship. She stayed in the same quaint little village the entire time, tending her crops.

Maybe he didn’t _want_ to find her.

Maybe she was as worthless to him as she had been to her family, her parents never shy about their dismay that their only child had no interest in following in their footsteps in the Jidoorian social hierarchy, preferring tinkering with her projects to dancing at a ball.

Maybe he never really loved her. They had been so very, very young. So careless and frivolous, very much a product of their privileged upbringing, embodying most of the values they strove to leave behind without even realizing it.

Daryl looked back often on those youthful times. There were good memories. Her first flight on the Falcon. Her first night with Setzer, discovering each other’s bodies under the stars, high above the mountains of Narshe on the deck of the Blackjack.

There were sad memories. Quarrels about the Blackjack becoming a floating casino, while the Falcon was always more utilitarian. Arguments about contracting with the Empire, when Imperial officers from Vector reached out for help with their own air fleet. Disagreements about how to spend their free days, Setzer preferring to moon over Maria at the Opera House, Daryl preferring to window shop and sigh over all the gorgeous fabrics she’d never allow herself to wear due to their impractical nature.

They had both been so very, very young. Daryl was only 17 when the Falcon crashed. With a wince, she realized she was almost 30 years old now. So much of the prime of her life had been stolen by that amnesia state, spent contented with simple village life instead of working on her dreams.

But what were her dreams now?

She wanted to help her new friends end Kefka, though she wasn’t sure how much help she could be, even with her throwing knives and newfound magical skills. If she only had the means to build a Falcon mark II, or something similar, she could be of true help, since slogging on foot all over what was left of the world certainly took a long time.

Goddesses above, she wanted to fly again. That was perhaps the thing she wanted most in the world, as guilty as she felt for the selfish ambition. To feel the wind all around her, to soar faster and higher than the birds, to be _free_ …

Daryl wanted to see Setzer again, if in fact he had survived the ruin of the world, but each time she thought about that reunion, a small voice deep inside of her screamed in fear. He hadn’t found her in ten years… who was to say he wanted to find her now? He probably had moved on, met someone else, made something of his life. What use would the man he had grown into have for his childhood sweetheart?

She was drawn out of her sad introspection by a jerk on the line, and she expertly reeled in the fish, casting her line out once more, hoping to catch enough to feed herself and her two companions for at least the next couple days. Who knew when she’d find time to fish again? While it was a necessity, it was also a luxury, since nearly all their waking hours were consumed by their endless march.

Daryl heard voices from the campsite and realized her companions had awoken. Taking a few deep breaths, she pushed her depressive thoughts deep down inside, and plastered a smile on her face, prepared to face the day with at least the facade of cheerfulness and optimism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like my interpretation of how they could learn magic from the magicite. I didn't think writing in grinding for AP would fit very well, heh.


	8. Chapter 8

This morning started out differently than the others. Rather than being woken up gradually by the sunrise, all three women were startled awake by a blinding flash of light. Then another.

“It’s coming from the west!” Daryl shouted as she jumped up, an arm flung protectively in front of her eyes. “What in the name of all creation is THAT?!”

The unearthly light burned brighter than the sun and all the stars combined. Even Celes and Terra, with all their magical knowledge, had never seen something so brilliant. It looked to burn hotter than the strongest Flare.

After perhaps a quarter of an hour, the light stopped. “Let’s break camp quickly. I want to go see what that was,” Celes verbalized what all three women were thinking.

They made haste gathering up their possessions and cleaning up the camp site, getting a move on, walking west across a narrow bridge of land that seemed to spill into a larger mass.

A large, misshaped tower was almost dead ahead. They slowed their footsteps as they looked at it, the tower seeming to be built in a ramshackle fashion, bits of buildings, roads, bridges, and who knows what else making up the lower portion. It rose higher than they could see, piercing the clouds.

“I sense a terrible energy from that tower,” Terra whispered, her eyes full of tears, as if the simple act of looking at the bizarre structure was causing her pain.

Celes nodded. “I feel it too, though not as strongly. Let’s stay away from it for now.”

The women instead turned north, hoping they were headed in the right direction, suspecting the menacing tower had something to do with the blinding lights that had burned across the scarred sky earlier in the morning.

A couple hours walk led them to a town. And there were people. People who were sobbing and digging through wreckage.

Clearly the light was not benevolent.

Walking slowly into the town and trying to keep their wits about them as they beheld the horrific destruction, the women approached a solitary woman who stood staring at the charred wreck of a house.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Daryl spoke carefully. “What happened here?”

The stranger turned to Daryl and her entire face crumpled before she could answer. “The light,” she sobbed. “His Light.” The second time, they could hear the capitalization. “Light of Judgement. Destroyed,” she woman’s cries grew too strong for words to come through for a few minutes. “So destroyed…” she whispered brokenly.

Terra came beside the stranger and put a compassionate arm around her, gently asking for more information. “Whose Light of Judgement?” she enunciated carefully. “Why did it attack your town?”

“God,” the woman gasped in between her tears. “Someone here must have done something to offend him. Now look at Tzen. It’s destroyed. And m-my,” she cried harder, waving a hand at the wreck of a house. “My son was still inside!” she wailed.

Celes gasped, and took a step towards the collapsed house. Could anyone have survived that? Her face tightened in determination. “I’m going to take a closer look,” she said to her companions.

Terra nodded. “I’m going to stay with her a while,” she replied, still hugging the distraught mother, tears silently pouring down her cheeks as she obviously felt great empathy, thoughts going to her village of foster-children back in Mobliz.

Daryl stepped forward. “I’m going to go look around.” She walked off to see if she could replenish their supplies, or get any leads on anything helpful. Daryl figured Terra was better suited to comforting the bereaved mother, and Celes didn’t seem to need help, so she might as well try and be useful.

With both of her friends focused on their self-appointed tasks, Celes walked over to the smoking rubble of the house. Her eyes narrowed in concentration and she carefully began to dig into the wreckage. Maybe, just maybe, the woman’s son was still alive.

She jumped back as part of the rubble moved. Something was under there! Moving to the spot and praying her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on her, she began to dig earnestly, shouting for others to come help. A few residents came and lent their strength to the efforts.

Celes was hoping, and expecting, to either find the child, or that she had been imagining things. She certainly didn’t expect to find Sabin.

The bulky man’s blonde hair was covered with enough ash to turn it gray, and soot streaked his face and shirtless torso, but it was unmistakably the monk she used to travel with. Sabin Rene Figaro, former crown prince, brother of the King of Figaro, disciple of Duncan, the martial arts master.

And he was cradling in his powerful arms the body of a young boy.

Celes leaned forward, pressing her ear the boy’s chest. She crowed in triumph hearing a heartbeat, feeling his chest feebly rise and fall. “He’s alive!”

Terra and the mother ran over. The boy’s mother was laughing in shocked disbelief, carefully taking her son from Sabin. “Oh! Oh, _thank you_! Thank you!!” She hugged her still unconscious son tightly. “Oh I can’t believe he survived, thank you so much!”

Sabin laughed, one hand scrubbing at the back of his head to dislodge some of the ash. “Of course, ma’am. I’m glad he’s okay.”

The woman walked off with her boy, probably to find the village healer.

Celes and Terra caught Sabin in the middle of a group hug, laughing. “Sabin! You survived!” Celes said.

“Well, duh!” Sabin grinned at both women, wrapping an arm around each and squeezing. “It would take more than the end of the world to keep me down!” Adopting a more serious demeanor, he continued to speak. “It’s so great to see you two. I didn’t know if anyone else had survived the crash. I’ve been wandering around helping people when I could while looking for everyone.”

The three stepped to a quieter part of town, sitting on the dead grass and catching up on events since the breaking of the world. Sabin seemed a bit overwhelmed when the women were finished talking.

“So much has happened. I wish I could have been there for you through it,” he said sadly. Sabin’s heart was larger than his impressive biceps. He always wanted to help people, and felt guilty that his friends had gone through such troubling ordeals alone.

“You’re here now,” Terra said soothingly.

“Yeah,” Celes agreed. “As soon as Daryl gets back, let’s find a place to make camp. We need to talk about where to go next. Do you have any leads on Edgar, or Strago? Hell, anything of Gau?”

Sabin shook his head. “There isn’t exactly a reliable source of news these days. Everyone is just focused on trying to stay alive, and stay under the radar of this so-called god’s Light of Judgement.”

Celes frowned. “This ‘god’ lives in that horrible tower to the south?”

He nodded.

Celes sighed. “Kefka?”

Sabin grimaced. “That’s my guess too.”

Terra spoke with conviction. “Then we know where we need to go. When we’re ready.”

The conversation was interrupted by the return of Daryl, arms laden with supplies. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked curiously, dropping to sit down beside Celes, looking at Sabin with admiration. “Looks like a good fighter.”

Sabin barked a short laugh. “Well, thanks, lady.”

“Lady?” Daryl snickered. “Hardly.”

Celes rolled her eyes, glad that it seemed they would get along. “Sabin, this is Daryl, the one I told you about who nursed me through my coma. Daryl, this is Sabin, one of our companions from… before.”

Introductions made and formalities finished, the four resumed talking, conversation a chaotic mix of old war stories, updates on their lives since the cataclysm, and plans for what to do next. Eventually the group decided they would retreat east of the Tower and continue north on the land road made up of the former Serpent’s Trench, and see what they could find. It was hard to say with geography all torn asunder, but maybe there would be another town, or another lead on this “god”.

Or information on how to defeat him.


	9. Chapter 9

Daryl sighed to herself as she trudged along with her friends. She felt like she had been walking forever. In the past few weeks since finding Sabin and starting northward once more, they hadn’t found a single shred of evidence of any civilization. All untamed wilds filled with monsters, the land still just a narrow strip surrounded by brackish purple waters. They fell back into a routine: Daryl fished up breakfast, sometimes with Sabin’s company, as the monk was a habitually early riser. They broke camp and walked until well past mid-day. Then they found a camp site, established camp, and spent the evening hours in weapons and magic practice.

Daryl had been surprised to learn that Sabin had magic of his own. He was perhaps as adept as she was at the magic learned from magicite, but he had his own type of power, learned from his martial arts master, Duncan, back at Mt. Kohltz. He called his magic “Blitz”. So far she had witnessed him use a strong, non-elemental bolt of energy that he called an “Aura Bolt”, and a chaotic array of fiery copies of himself that he called “Fire Dance”. Even without magic, his physical attacks were incredibly strong, both barehanded and with the claw weapons he favored.

She still struggled to learn magic. The Maduin magicite had granted her the Thundara and Blizzara spells, but she was reluctant to learn any more, still not feeling that she had gained sufficient control of the little magic she had learned. So Daryl continued to wear the Maduin magicite as a necklace, hoping continued proximity to the stone would help her to attain that control. While she also practiced with her daggers, she assumed that in the ultimate battle, the knives would be pretty useless, and magic would be the key to survival.

Daryl sighed again, plodding along, almost hoping for a monster attack, for something, anything, to break up the monotony of another day of walking. No such luck, however, as the party remained undisturbed, making their way ever northward.

Occasionally, Daryl would hear Terra offer something encouraging, or Sabin crack a joke, but she didn’t lift her voice in response. Just keep walking. One foot in front of the other.

Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to thinking about what the hell she was doing trying to save the world. She was a mechanic, for fuck’s sake. A mechanic, a pilot, a one time farmer, now trying to learn how to use magic and fight monsters. Daryl snorted indelicately, shaking her head. A far cry from the pampered Jidoorian girl, indeed.

She tried to stave off today’s internal monologue of her shortcomings by thinking of airship plans. Maybe if she could find a sea faring ship mostly intact, she could adapt it to the sky? Daryl frowned, deep in thought, her feet continuing on their path mostly by muscle memory. She should probably pay more attention to where she was going, as evidenced by how often she was tripping over roots and small rocks.

“What the fuck is that?” Sabin asked suddenly, and Daryl looked up, blinking her eyes a couple times to bring herself back into the moment, instead of in dreams.

On the horizon, they could spot a tower.

“What is it with mysterious Towers?” Daryl asked sardonically.

Celes raised an eyebrow at her friend’s attempt at humor. “I don’t know, but we should check it out. It’s the first sign of… anything… we’ve seen since Tzen.”

“I agree,” said Terra with a nod. “Maybe it’s a stronghold against Kefka. Maybe we’ll find more survivors.”

“Okay, let’s check it out,” said Sabin.

The four resumed their march, but now moved with more purpose, having a destination in mind and a flare of hope in their hearts. After a few more hours march, they realized a flaw in their plan.

The tower was surrounded by mountains. Not terribly tall ones, as they were able to see the tower, though less and less was visible the closer they walked. But they looked treacherous enough that it was unlikely they could scale them on foot.

Daryl was filled with futile thoughts of self recrimination. _If only I had the Falcon. If only I had the resources to build a new airship. If I only I wasn’t so gods-damned useless._

She made an effort to hide her despair. “So, ladies, anyone know a magic spell to get us over those rocks to check out the tower?” she asked airily.

To her surprise, both women seemed to give her question serious consideration.

“Well, I can fly in my Esper form,” Terra mused. “But I don’t think I could carry all of you with me. Maybe I could scout ahead, look for a path through?”

“I don’t think we should split up,” argued Sabin. “I think it’s safer to stay together. I’ve seen monsters in the skies.”

“Teleport only works if I know where I am going,” Celes said after a long, silent moment of contemplation. “I don’t think any of my magic could get us in there without knowing what to visualize. I could send us into solid rock. It’s too risky.”

Daryl sighed, though when she spoke, it was with a determinedly optimistic tone of voice. “So I guess we remember this tower and come back later, when we can figure out how?” Her eyes lacked any luster as she continued with what they were all thinking, “We keep walking.”

Her companions all nodded.

“Doesn’t seem to be any other option,” Sabin said. “Let’s go!”

And so they continued, all falling silent again, focusing on walking. They continued for days that stretched into weeks. Daryl no longer even tried to hide her hopelessness. There was nothing left. They should go back and try to climb those mountains and get into that tower they had passed. There was nothing except barren land and monsters.

Her friends noticed her fallen mood and tried to help. Sabin told stupid jokes and offered to spar. Terra led her in guided mediation to try and help her focus her small magical powers and refine her control of the three elemental spells she had been granted. Celes offered her quiet companionship, and held her when she cried. She hated breaking down, but figured if it was okay to lower her defenses in front of anyone, it was Celes. The two women had already seen each other at their lowest back on that solitary island, after all.

Nothing really helped, though, and slowly Daryl continued her mental descent into a dark and unyielding depression. She gave up scheming ways to build a new ship. What was the point? There was nothing left to travel to, anyway. She did her best to banish all thoughts of Setzer from her mind, though sometimes her internal monologue was in his voice, scathingly telling her what a failure she was, how much happier he was without her, how she should have just died when the Falcon crashed, and saved everyone the trouble of dealing with her.

Daryl certainly felt like the weak link in their little group. Terra was mind-blowingly powerful, so much arcane energy trapped inside such a petite vessel. Celes’s mind was as sharp as her sword, her skills deadly, and her tactical and survival knowledge a great boon to the party. Sabin’s brute strength helped them clear many an obstacle, and his cheerful optimism kept them focused on their end goal.

Daryl fished. Yay for Daryl, she could do a task that a child could do.

Lost in her introspection, she didn’t notice that her friends had stopped walking until she plowed into Sabin. He reached out a steadying hand, preventing her from falling. “Careful!” he admonished, but his voice was not unkind.

“Sorry,” Daryl muttered, looking around to see why they stopped.

They had found another town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a lot of Evanescence when writing Daryl's depression chapters. Two songs in particular that stood out were "Breath No More" and "Hello".


	10. Chapter 10

The four walked into a surprisingly bustling town. It hardly seemed to have been affected by the end of the world, people rushing to and fro, the center of the town a large, busy marketplace, leading to docks with still functional ships moored as captains tried to find passengers who could pay.

“Nikeah!” Celes said as they walked through the gates. “And still as busy as ever.” She looked around, eyes drinking in the sights of so many people. “Let’s split up, meet back here in an hour? See if we can find any leads on anything useful.”

“Right,” Sabin nodded, walking off.

Terra smiled at Celes’s enthusiasm before wandering to the south.

Daryl just stood there, frowning.

“Daryl,” Celes said gently, patting the other woman’s shoulder to get her attention.

Daryl looked up at Celes, blinking owlishly. “Yeah, sorry. Investigating. Back in an hour.” The former pilot trudged off aimlessly.

Celes’s brow wrinkled in concern, but decided now wasn’t the time to try and find the cure for Daryl’s depression. Now was the time to try and find answers.

She wandered through the marketplace, amazed at the amount and variety of goods for sale, astounded that Nikeah was still… well, Nikeah, even after the breaking of the world, still a melting pot of trade and a thriving port. Celes walked closer to the docks, curious to see where the captains were sailing for, when she spotted a familiar figure.

His clothes were more muted than his previous royal splendor, and his hair was brown instead of blonde, but she swore the man bargaining with that ship’s captain was Edgar, King of Figaro. But what was he doing surrounded by a band of ruffians? Sketchy men surrounded the king, wearing ragged combinations of cloth and leather armor, hanging on his every word.

As Celes walked closer, she became more certain it was, in fact, Edgar, though his voice was far more hardened than the cultured purr he typically affected.

“That settles it,” the disguised king spoke to the captain. “We sail for South Figaro tomorrow at dawn.” With a sharp nod, he turned and strode back towards the town, the unsavory looking men following him closely.

This was her chance. “Edgar!” Celes shouted, waving her arms when he turned in her direction. “Edgar, is that you?” She closed the distance between them with a few steps.

He looked her over slowly, but showed no recognition. “Lady, I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else. My name is Gerad.” His bow seemed more suited to the court of a castle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Celes furrowed her brow in consternation. She was _positive_ that man was Edgar. What reason would he have to lie? Was he suffering from the kind of amnesia that had struck Daryl for so many years? She decided to follow his group carefully, and noted which Inn they had taken up residence within.

Circling back through town, she waited at the gates for her friends to return. Sabin especially would be interested in this news. She leaned against the fence and crossed her arms across her chest, deep in thought as she waited.

Terra, Daryl, and Sabin all approached her around the same time, which made telling her news easier. She filled them in succinctly, holding up a hand to halt their questions until she was finished.

“You’re sure it’s him?” Sabin demanded, blue eyes intense. “I mean, if he said he wasn’t…”

“I’m sure,” said Celes simply.

“Something must have happened to him,” Terra worried. “Maybe those men are holding him captive?”

Celes shook her head in negation. “They seemed to answer to him.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Daryl asked.

Celes tapped a finger against her lips as she spoke, eyes narrowed in thought. “I think we should board that ferry and see where it takes them. ‘Gerad’ told the captain he wanted to leave at dawn. I suggest we book passage, and then find rooms for the night.”

“I suppose that’s better than me crashing in there and demanding answers,” Sabin said resignedly. “Okay, Daryl and I will go book rooms at the other Inn. You and Terra go book the ship.”

Celes nodded, and linking arms with Terra, walked back to the harbor. It was easy to find the ship’s captain again, and she negotiated what both seemed to think was a fair price for their passage.

“Now, ladies, I must warn ye,” the captain said. “The rest of me ship is booked with some rough men. Ye mind yerselves and be careful,” he said almost paternally, clearly motivated by a sense of chivalry towards the two women.

“We will, thank you,” Celes responded drolly, while Terra muffled a giggle behind one fine-boned hand.

The two headed back toward the Inn and met up with Sabin and Daryl. Sabin was seated in the common room eating. He told them that Daryl had claimed fatigue and went to bed.

Celes frowned. “Did she at least eat first?”

Sabin shook his head. “Nope. Said she wasn’t hungry.”

Terra sighed. “I wish I knew how to help her. Maybe a good night’s sleep in a real bed will aide.”

Celes didn’t look convinced. “I hope so.” She felt like a heartless bitch, but she was trying to be realistic. “We don’t really have time to coddle her. We’ve all been through hell, and you don’t see any of us succumbing to it.”

Sabin stopped chewing and stared at his friend silently.

Terra looked shocked. “Celes! She’s our friend, and she’s hurting!”

“I know that!” the Magitek Knight spat the words hastily. “Maybe it’s my own fatigue catching up with me, I don’t know. I just don’t know how to help her and I don’t have time to devote to the problem when I’m trying to keep us all alive.”

“Uh, we’re all grown ups, you know,” Sabin pointed out. “You aren’t responsible for us.”

“We shoulder the burdens together, and it makes us stronger,” Terra said gently, resting a hand on Celes’s forearm and squeezing gently.

“I know,” Celes sighed. “Once a general always a general, hm?” She offered an apologetic smile to her friends. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Let’s get some rest. Hopefully when we reach South Figaro, Edgar will come clean, or we’ll get some clue what he’s up to.”

The ladies ordered food, ate quickly, then all three returned to their room to find Daryl cocooned in blankets, seemingly already asleep. Each took to their own beds and slumbered.

Daryl was not, in fact, asleep. She was thinking over all the ways their journey could go wrong. The boat could sink. The men with Edgar could kill them. Kefka’s Light of Judgement could find them.

The voyage could go smoothly. That thought, for some reason, scared her the most.

 

Daryl wasn’t accustomed to spending so much time in her thoughts. She was used to having things to work on, things to do, not just endless walking providing too much time to think and think and think some more.

She didn’t know how to pull herself out of this maudlin spiral she’d been trapped in for weeks. It just kept getting worse. Her thoughts felt like a physical weight she was lugging around as she moved about her days. It was exhausting.

Daryl considered sneaking out of the room once her friends were asleep and buying a bottle of whatever swill the common room served, but on a logical level knew that drinking wasn’t the answer to her despair.

She should try to sleep, but sleep usually brought nightmares, either hazy visions of the Falcon crashing, or memories of waking up to her true self, finding the world quaking and rolling beneath her feet.

Or, worse, she would dream of happier days, flying and loving and _living_ , and then she would wake back up to this hell.

If she stayed awake, she didn’t have to wake up. Waking up was the worst. There were always those few moments when dreams still clouded her mind, and she started the day in terror at whatever nightmare her mind had concocted, heart racing, pulse pounding.

Or, sleep faded, and she realized the arms around her were a cruel fabrication, the wind in her hair was a remnant of the past, and she was still here. Alone. Grounded.

Daryl was, however, only human, and eventually even her troubled thoughts couldn’t keep her awake. She fell into a restless sleep, and she dreamed.

 

_Daryl wrapped arms and legs tightly around Setzer, holding him as close as humanly possible. “Mmm, don’t stop!” she moaned, before pressing her lips against the pulse point in his neck, tasting the salt of the sweat slicking his pale skin._

_Violet eyes clouded with passion looked down at her, a curtain of silvery white hair falling to shroud them both in shadow, as her lover continued to move above her, within her, leaning down to capture her lips in a heated kiss. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he gasped into her ear, lips teasing her earlobe._

_Daryl could hear the Blackjack’s engines, the sound the steady hum of inactivity since neither pilot was at the helm. The ship was simply idling in it’s place in the sky. The lovers were completely undisturbed, able to take their time with each other, uninterrupted._

_“Getting close,” Setzer warned, panting as he continued to thrust into her._

_“Good,” Daryl said, biting into his shoulder. She felt so close, just a few moments more…_

 

A hand was shaking her shoulder. “Daryl?” Terra whispered. “It’s time to go.”

Daryl sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and trying not to cry. She hated the dreams more than the nightmares. Quickly rising and gathering her things, she followed her friends listlessly over to the harbor, preparing for another day in this living hell.

Maybe the boat would sink. A woman could hope.


	11. Chapter 11

Sabin Rene Figaro fucking hated boats.

He supposed it was worth it, since his brother was down in the cabins somewhere, pretending to be a bandit leader or some fucking thing, but Triad save him, did it have to be a boat?

The monk tried meditation. He tried sparring, enjoying the added challenge of the deck rocking beneath his bare feet, but then the rocking, and the sound of the surf, and…

The former crown prince of Figaro found himself draped over the rails of the boat, vomiting his bacon and eggs into the murky purple sea.

His friend Terra was a trooper. She didn’t have to hold back his hair, since it was in a ponytail at the base of his skull, but she mopped his forehead with a damp cloth and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him the way she probably soothed those kids of hers back in Mobliz.

“Ugh… fucking boats,” Sabin whined to Terra. “Are we there yet?”

Terra shook her head, smiling a bit ruefully, though her eyes were compassionate. “Soon, I think.”

Sabin glanced around and saw Celes and Daryl not far down the deck from where he and the half-Esper stood, their heads together in conversation, any hint of their words carried away by the wind. Oh well. At least all his friends weren’t witnessing his seasickness.

“Why do you think your brother is acting like he doesn’t know us?” Terra asked, drawing Sabin out of his mopey thoughts.

“Dunno,” he answered with a sigh. “I mean, Edgar’s smart, but he’s not usually cunning, you know? I mean, not like this.” Sabin frowned, his handsome features showing how much this was hurting him. “He just looked right past me, Terra. Maybe he’s hurt like Daryl was?”

Terra chewed on her lower lip a moment, thinking. “I think we need to just see what happens in South Figaro,” she finally said. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

Sabin groaned. Partially because he knew Terra was right, and partially because his stomach was starting to roil again. How could he have anything left to throw up? Ugh! Fucking boats!

 

Down the deck a ways, Daryl and Celes talked idly, passing time as the voyage from Nikeah to South Figaro dragged on.

“How much did he eat this morning?” Daryl joked, though not unkindly, jerking her head in Sabin’s direction as he again hung over the railing.

Celes chuckled. “Have you seen the way he packs it in? Takes a lot of fuel to power those muscles.”

“I suppose so,” Daryl grinned at her friend, determined not to spend the entire trip sulking, despite her rude awakening that morning. She decided to try and get a bit more intel on the king turned thief, however. “So what’s the deal with King Edgar?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve never really met a king, we didn’t have monarchy in Jidoor. What’s he like? Think he’ll join the fight, too?” Daryl indulged in a crooked smile. “Well, at least once he remembers who he is, or stops playing bandit leader, or whatever?” She waved a hand idly, enjoying the way the sea spray blew against her skin, the cooling water welcome in the day’s unnatural heat. Wasn’t it supposed to be winter? Kefka had really messed up the world.

“He’s… a character,” Celes said, her smile fond as she reminisced. “He fancies himself a ladies man, but he’s really one of the most considerate people I know. He passes much of it off as chivalry, but he extends the same courtesy to men as well as women, so it’s not from a misplaced sense of duty or anything.” She grinned. “And he learned quickly that Terra and I were just as strong as the men in the Returners. Stronger than many,” her words weren’t a boast, but a simple statement of fact. The magic the women wielded was certainly more powerful in most circumstances than the men’s weapons or fists.

Daryl nodded, filing the information away. She spoke without filtering her thoughts, “Sounds a lot like Setzer. Except for the king thing, and the ‘fancying himself a ladies man’ thing. Setzer always had women hanging off his every word,” Daryl said, rolling her eyes. Amazingly enough, the memories were fond and not depressing today. She’d roll with it as long as it lasted.

Celes leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did I ever tell you that Setzer tried to marry me based off a coin toss?”

Daryl couldn’t even feel jealous. She threw back her head and laughed until she almost cried. “I’m not at ALL surprised.”

The Magitek Knight grinned and told Daryl the story of the two-headed coin borrowed from Edgar, and Setzer’s utter delight at being fooled, something that didn’t often happen to the sly gambler. “While he joined us on a lark, I think he cared more about the cause than he’d ever admit.”

Daryl’s smile faded a bit, and she nodded. “Sounds like him. He liked to talk big about just flying away from everything, but he did care about what went on in the world below. I think a large reason he escaped to the sky was because he felt so powerless to effect any real change.” Her smile came back full force. “It sounds like you gave him the opportunity he always dreamed of, even if he didn’t know he needed it. Thank you.”

Celes put a companionable arm around her friend and squeezed warmly. “He helped us far more than just with the Blackjack. I hope we find him again someday.”

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed, though her face had fallen somewhat, and her tone was less than enthusiastic. Quick to change the subject, she asked, “Hey, do you think we should go over there, give Terra some back up?"

Celes shook her head. “Terra took care of a village of children, I think she can handle one man.”

“Fair point,” Daryl conceded, hugging her friend back a moment before pulling free of the embrace and walking to stand with her hands braced on the rail, staring out to sea. The point where the burnt orange of the sky met the dirty purple of the rolling waves was a bit hard to actually look at, but it was a nice distraction from her thoughts.

A horn sounded, and the women’s attention went towards the helm, where the captain was doggedly manning the wheel, his sailors scurrying around in a sort of organized chaos that only one familiar with sailing would understand.

“I guess we must be getting close to South Figaro,” Daryl offered, her voice a bit soft, tone sounding unsure if that was a good thing or not.

“Yeah. Let’s go gather up our stuff,” Celes said, after catching Terra’s eyes and nodding to the green haired woman.

Celes and Daryl headed below decks and gathered up their supplies, while Terra continued to tend to the ailing monk. In short order, the boat docked at South Figaro, and the three Returners, plus their presumed dead friend, disembarked, staying a careful distance back from ‘Gerad’ and his band of merry men. They trailed them to an Inn, but stayed outdoors for the time being. Sabin took advantage of the opportunity to sit down on the soft brown grass, getting used to being on solid land again, taking in deep gulps of air as if he could exhale away the lingering nausea.

“So, what’s the plan?” the monk mumbled, bowed forward, head resting on arms crossed over his knees.

“I suppose we get a room for the night, but sleep in shifts so we don’t miss when they depart,” Celes said. “We follow them, see where they go, hopefully get an idea of why Edgar is being not-Edgar.”

Terra nodded. “Sounds sensible to me.”

Daryl shrugged. “You know the guy. I don’t. I’m all about the getting a room though.” She affected a yawn. “Sea travel makes me sleepy.”

Thus planned, the friends secured a room for the night, and settled in to see what ‘Gerad’ and his men did next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bigger they are, the harder they puke?


	12. Chapter 12

Sabin took the final watch of the night, not having been able to sleep anyway, and he was glad he did when he noticed the bandits slipping out of the Inn in the muted light of pre-dawn. He ducked back into the room and shook his friends awake one by one. “They’re on the move. Let’s go.”

Since they hadn’t unpacked any belongings and slept in their clothes, it was simple enough to be on their way, though Daryl and Celes were heard quietly grumbling to each other about how welcome a vat of coffee would be at this indecent hour.

They followed the men being as stealthy as they could be. Fortunately, South Figaro was a city that never slept even in this post-apocalyptic world. Though the sun was just starting to shine over the horizon, the port town was bustling, merchants hawking their wares, townsfolk scurrying to and fro on their morning errands, sea captains calling out their destinations.

Sabin took the lead, Terra at his heels, Daryl behind the green haired woman, and the former General bringing up the rear.

The monk kept his distance from ‘Gerad’ and his men, but kept them in range of his keen blue eyes, following them out of town and across a small meadow, ducking behind a tree as he watched them file one by one into a cave.

“Could that be the old cave system between South Figaro and Figaro Castle?” Sabin wondered aloud. The world was rearranged so haphazardly, he supposed this could just as easily be the fucking Cave of the Espers, but he had felt a surge of hope at the idea of seeing his childhood home, and he wanted to hold on to that hope as long as possible.

“Perhaps,” agreed Terra, offering Sabin a friendly pat on the shoulder and one of her warm smiles.

“Let’s check it out,” Celes said a bit gruffly, holding one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword.

“Aye-aye, General Chere!” Sabin said cheekily, heartened to hear Daryl chuckle at his joke. He lead the group towards the cave entrance, all four keeping their eyes peeled for any sight of monsters, or any of the bandits that may have fallen behind.

They headed into the cave, and using a combination of the Returners’ memories, and the sounds of the bandits up ahead, made their way through in a couple quick hours with no incidents. They arrived at the other cave mouth, sunshine gleaming in the door hole invitingly, but that’s where things diverged from their memories.

From a position back a ways, peering cautiously around the corner, Sabin watched as the bandits waded through a small pond. One of the rough looking men messed with the wall a bit and Sabin heard an audible click - a hidden switch! The door churned open with the loud noise of stone sliding against stone. Once it was halfway opened, the bandits started ducking underneath and through, the man calling himself Gerad watching until the last bandit had gone through, before following himself.

The monk gestured silently to his friends and crept towards the pond, bare feet entering the cool waters with a small splash as he looked through the doorway. He turned back a moment, met Celes's eyes, confirming to himself that the Magitek Knight still had their backs in her position as rear guard. Sabin nodded to the blonde woman, met Terra’s and Daryl’s eyes briefly with a hint of his trademarked goofy grin, then went through the door.

A stone hallway leading gradually upwards stretched before them. They moved slowly, cautiously, unsure if there were hidden surprises in this secret passageway. After perhaps fifteen minutes of walking, Sabin was shocked to find himself in the back of a cell in Figaro Castle’s jail!

“I never knew about this!” His whisper carried all of his surprise at minimal volume, only Terra able to hear his quiet words. “Edgar must have added this in after I went to the mountains. But why?” He walked forward, thankful the cell door was hanging open, since he didn’t think anyone in their group was a lock pick.

Coming into the main hall of the dungeon, he gasped loudly, running over to where a man wearing the uniform of a Figaro Castle guardsman lay on the floor. Sabin knelt beside the man, barely cognizant of the fact that his friends gathered around him, and he pressed careful fingers against the unconscious man’s neck. “He’s got a pulse. Barely breathing, though.” Sabin looked up, a frown carving lines into his brow. “The air smells bad.”

Celes looked determined. “Let’s go find Edgar.”

Terra nodded. “We can come back to help this man after we figure out what’s going on.”

Daryl shrugged, idly running fingers over the Maduin magicite she still wore at her throat. “Sounds like a plan.”

And so the four continued, following the noise of the bandits through the catacombs beneath Figaro Castle, not a challenging task as they seemed to become less stealthy the further they went. Sabin could hear the men laughing and joking with each other about what they’d do with their share of the treasure. His brother had helped thieves break into the castle? Why?!

Eventually, they came to what Sabin vaguely recognized as an engine room of sorts, a room housing some of the mechanical workings that Edgar and their father before him had designed, marvelous technology that allowed the very castle itself to submerge in the desert and travel a carefully created pathways between Figaro desert and Kohlingen. Sabin almost face-palmed when he realized the reason the air stank and tasted so stale - the castle must be stuck underground! That could explain as well why the guardsman they had encountered was unconscious without a mark on him - the bandits hadn’t knocked him out, he’d passed out from oxygen deprivation.

“Hey!” a most familiar and welcome voice called out, breaking the monk out of his thoughts and pulling him back into the present. “Mind giving me a hand, Brother?”

Sabin walked into the room to find Edgar tangled up with some sort of bright yellow, tentacled monster. He called for his friends, and dove into the fray, using his brute strength to unwind the tentacle that held his brother.

The women ran in, ready for battle. Celes sheathed her sword, and opted to call on her Blizzard magic, freezing some of the monster’s appendages.

Terra tilted her head a moment, seeming to consider something, then nodded and began to chant, her eyes falling shut. Even in her human form, the Fira she called forth was devastating to the monster.

Daryl decided there was no time like the present to put all the practice to use. She unsheathed her daggers, finding the feel of the weapons almost comforting. However, instead of throwing the wicked knives, she threw magic, the blades of her daggers flashing in the light of the fires Terra rained down as she moved as if she was to throw the weapons. While the hilts of the blades stayed firmly in her hands, the elemental bolts flung forward made short work on the remaining tentacles.

Edgar, for his part, stood a bit wide eyed, jaw dropped open as he watched the mystical energies shooting all over the engine room, destroying the monster that had gotten wound up in the machinery, preventing the castle from surfacing for so long.

Sabin clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, bro.” He punched Edgar’s shoulder and scowled at his brother as the women walked over to join the Figaros. “Now what the fuck were you doing leading a bunch of thieves into the castle? And pretending you didn’t know us at Nikeah?” He crossed impressively built arms across his broad chest.

“For the love of the Goddesses, hide!” Edgar hissed out suddenly, having heard a noise from down the hall.

The five jumped behind various pieces of machinery and made themselves as still and silent as possible as the bandits walked back through the room, heavily laded with treasure.

“Boss?” one bandit called out hesitantly, as all the rough men looked through the room, carefully staying on the center path as if they were worried the monster was still there. “Huh. Didn’t even last as long as the last boss.”

“Who cares? Let’s get outta here,” another chimed in, grinning and holding up a fistful of necklaces. “We got what we came for!”

With words of agreement, the bandits all went back towards the hallway leading into this room, presumably to go back down into the caves to South Figaro town.

With a melodramatic sigh, Edgar stepped out into the center of the room again, making eye contact with each other person as they joined him. “Well, that was close.” He smiled then, all annoyance gone from his voice when he spoke, genuine joy coloring his tone. “Terra, Celes! It’s so good to see you both alive!” He hugged each woman, before thumping his brother on the shoulder in a good-natured manner.

Sabin was having none of it, and pulled his brother into a tight hug.

Edgar put on expression of mock annoyance, pretending to dust off his clothes after Sabin released him. He looked Daryl, one brow arched up inquisitively, as he stepped forward, grasping one of the pilot’s calloused hands in both of his, giving her his best charming smile. “And who, my dear, might you be?”

Daryl rolled her eyes and tugged her hand out of his grasp, balling it into a fist and resting it on one out-cocked hip. “I’m Daryl.” She rolled her eyes again when she saw the now familiar facial expression of one of Setzer’s friends making the connection. “Yes, _that_ Daryl. Here to help save the world, and all that.” She swept a theatrical bow, and grinned broadly at the King of Figaro when she rose, though a well practiced observer would notice the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Edgar shook his head in wonder. “You all clearly have stories to tell. Let’s get this castle above ground, and find somewhere more comfortable to talk.”


	13. Chapter 13

The five had talked long into the night getting caught up on the events of the past 18 months since the breaking of the world. After many hours of conversation, Daryl found herself feeling restless, and she wandered the castle halls a bit aimlessly, her lips quirked in a small smile at the notion that she was actually in a castle and had been hanging out with royalty.

Eventually she found her way outside, and she leaned against a railing, staring out at the beauty of the moonlit desert, listening the soft but persistent ambient sounds of the night. She just stood there for several long minutes, breathing, clearing her head which was so overfilled as to feel near to bursting. Retelling her tale to catch Edgar up had been painful. Triad, but she was tired of retelling the same story over and over again. Maybe next time she could get Celes to tell it for her.

She was happy for her friends’ joy at finding another of their long lost companions. It truly was miraculous how many of these Returners had survived the destruction of the Blackjack. Fuck, she still couldn’t believe she had walked away from the Falcon’s crash, albeit spending a decade lost in her own mind before coming back to herself at long last.

Daryl was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard the soft but deliberate sound of a throat being cleared behind her. She turned to face the newcomer, leaning back against the railing at her back, propped on her elbows.

The pilot twisted her lips in a small smirk, tossing back her unbound hair as she regarded Edgar. “To what do I owe a visit from the King of Figaro?” she asked slyly. “I’m definitely no royal.”

Edgar smiled, a low chuckle purring in his throat. “This is where normally I would tell you how your beauty outshines the stars, or the honey of your hair remind me of the desert sands, or some such thing.” He stopped a few paces from her, crossing his arms loosely, his face settling into a slightly more serious expression.

Daryl looked at him curiously, something about the look in his eyes making her feel uncomfortable. He looked at her with such familiarity, despite just having met her mere hours ago. His eyes held the same pity all her new friends tried to hide when they first her tell her sad tale, but they also held such warmth. She raised her chin a bit belligerently. “I don’t need your compliments, Your Majesty,” she spat the words harshly.

Edgar unfolded his arms and raised his hands placatingly. “I know you don’t. It’s just, I’ve seen you before. I can’t believe I’m seeing you now.”

Daryl blinked. “Huh? I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting a king, despite my amnesia issues.”

Edgar shook his head. “I’m doing this all wrong,” he sighed. “Please forgive me.”

She waited for him to elaborate, staring at him, wondering what the hell was going on.

“On the Blackjack,” Edgar finally continued. “I helped Setzer with things. You’ve seen the technological wonders here at Figaro? I was thrilled to be on board an actual flying ship.” The king’s grin mirrored the sense of wonder he felt the first time he boarded the craft. “I offered to help him with maintenance, anything to learn more about how the ship worked.”

Daryl cut him off with a laugh. “Did he actually let you touch anything?” she asked knowingly.

“No,” Edgar frowned a moment. “Well, he let me pass him his tools. But that’s besides the point,” he spoke over Daryl’s laughter. “I got to know him a bit better than they did,” he angled his head towards the direction where their other friends still chatted in the parlor. “We talked about all sorts of things while he tinkered with the Blackjack’s innards.”

Daryl nodded, still wondering where this was going.

“When I say I saw you before,” Edgar continued. “I didn’t mean in the flesh.” He smiled. “Did you know Setzer kept a drawing of you in his compass, like it was a locket?”

She gasped, one hand lifting to cover her parted lips.

“He took you everywhere, Daryl,” Edgar murmured, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on one of Daryl’s shoulders, squeezing it briefly. “He spoke to me of you often. I know it was a long time, and he did his best to live his life in the present, but he never forgot you. Never.”

Daryl had started crying somewhere in the middle of the machinist’s recollections, and she turned her back to him, hands gripping the railing again as she looked at the desert through a haze of tears.

Edgar was uncertain if he should say anything else or give her a hug or what to do, since they’d just met, and despite his reputation, he was loathe to invade a lady’s personal space without express invitation. So he simply stood there as Daryl quietly sobbed, watching her shoulders shake with the nearly inaudible cries. After a few long moments her heard her voice raggedly form one word.

“Really?” Daryl whispered, turning back to face him after wiping her face with her sleeve, drying most of the tears, though her eyes still shone with them.

“Oh, yes,” Edgar affirmed, nodding. “I would never lie about this, Daryl. I swear on my honor as a Figaro.”

Daryl nodded slowly, looking down at the stones beneath her feet a moment, before meeting Edgar’s friendly gaze again. “Would you…” she bit her lip, normal brashness faded away in this moment as she sought not to offend for once. “Would you go back inside?” she asked in a rush. “I’m grateful for you telling me this. More grateful than I could possibly say. But I need to think.” She offered a watery smile. “Please.”

The king swept a gallant bow, cape flaring dramatically behind him. “Of course, my lady. Please take all the time you need, and rejoin us when you are ready. I’ll let the others know you needed some air.” Thus said, he turned and went back into the castle.

Daryl walked slowly along the parapet, fingertips trailing along the ancient stone, eyes wandering over the silvery sands of the desert at dark. Setzer hadn’t forgotten her. He didn’t hate her. He even told his friends about her. She felt a playful grin curve her lips. Man, she would give him hell over using a compass as a locket. What a fucking romantic!

Laughing, she walked back down from when she had came, and went inside to rejoin her friends as they planned their next move. Thankfully she had only lingered perhaps 15 minutes after Edgar had gone in, so hopefully none of them were worried. She wasn’t ready to share these ruminations with anyone, and part of her wished she had thought to tell Edgar to keep the stories to himself. But when she wandered back into the lavish parlor and sat in an overstuffed crimson armchair, she heard their discussion had shifted from talk of the past to that of the future, as they tried to formulate a plan.

That conversation lasted several hours, and it was several frustrating hours of talking in circles with no real conclusion.

Sabin had started pacing an hour into it, and now Edgar also stood, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from foot to foot, seeming to try and find a way to burn off some energy without pacing the same way his brother was. Celes and Terra sat on a low couch in front of a coffee table, and Celes had her charts and maps out along with writing utensils, filling in what she could. Daryl remained in her chair in the corner, listening and offering little by way of suggestions, until she finally couldn’t take all the indecision any more.

“Which town is closest to our current location?” she asked Edgar.

“Kohlingen,” he replied.

“Okay,” she said, looking at each of the others in turn. “Let’s go to Kohlingen tomorrow, talk to people, maybe we’ll get a better idea of where we should go next.”

Celes sighed. “As good of a plan as any,” she agreed.

“That’s settled then,” Sabin said with a decisive nod. “We should try and get some sleep.” He yawned loudly, grinning a bit sheepishly when he was through. “Celes, Terra, you guys remember the rooms you used last time? Can you show Daryl where to bunk?”

Terra rose gracefully to her feet and nodded. “Of course. Good night,” she said, giving each of the Figaro brothers a hug, before walking down the hall with Daryl and Celes. The three women all had quarters not far from the parlor, and Daryl was delighted to realize she got a whole room to herself.

Flinging herself fully dressed on the bed, she fell into the deepest, most untroubled sleep she had enjoyed in the year and a half since her awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "With You" by Linkin Park, among other songs, was in my head for this one. And a few others.
> 
> I kinda want to put together a soundtrack for this story, but so many songs blurred together in my head while I was writing. Maybe I'll put a full list on the last chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

Celes tried to contain her impatience as she paced in the parlor, waiting for her friends to emerge from their rooms. Never having been one to sleep in, she was anxious to leave the castle and make tracks to Kohlingen. She didn’t know much about that town except that Locke grew up there. The first - and last - time she had visited was in Locke’s company a few weeks before the destruction of the world, when he stopped to visit his dead girlfriend, Rachel. Celes wasn’t exactly eager to go back to the town that housed the preserved corpse of her beloved’s past love, but maybe they would find a clue as to Locke’s whereabouts.

Gradually everyone joined her, and some of the castle’s servants brought foods to break their fast. Celes picked at hers, and noticed Daryl wasn’t eating either. She walked over to her one-time nurse and smiled at her. “Not hungry?”

Daryl quirked a brow in response. “As hungry as you,” was her retort, but her tone was not unkind.

Celes couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fair point.” Standing shoulder to shoulder with her friend, she watched Terra, Edgar, and Sabin. The delicate green haired woman ate as gracefully as she did everything else. The king ate with full court manners, unable to brush off his upbringing when in the castle itself. The monk, however, shoveled food in his face with little thought given to propriety, though he did at least remember to use his napkin every once in a while.

The former General felt her heart fill with love for these crazy people. Sometimes she still couldn’t really wrap her head around the fact she, up and coming military commander of the Empire, had defected, joined the Returners, and made the best friends she could ever hope to make.

At long last, everyone was done with breakfast, had gathered what they needed, and the group set off for Kohlingen. It was only perhaps an hour’s walk from the castle, and the weather was temperate for a change instead of hot, so the walk was surprisingly pleasant.

As they entered the town, Celes formulated a plan. “Let’s split up. Daryl, check the item shop. Sabin, the weapon shop. Terra, the Inn. Edgar, come with me to the Tavern, it’ll go quicker with two of us.”

Everyone headed off to their destinations. Edgar and Celes chatted idly as they walked to the Tavern. He chivalrously held the door for her, gesturing for her to proceed him. A moment later, Celes felt the King walk right into her, and she realized she had stopped moving forward.

The reason why sat at a small table, alone save for a bottle of some clear liquid that he sipped from at regular intervals.

“Setzer?!” Celes breathed the man’s name, eyes the color of storm clouds gone wide as saucers. “You’re alive!” she said in a tone people could actually hear, and she walked over to stand next to him, smiling in joy at finding another friend had survived the cataclysm.

“Am I?” the gambler slurred, his voice rough, before taking another generous swig from his bottle. “Are you?” He blinked up at Celes and Edgar, frowning as their images seemed to blur together into one big blonde blob.

Edgar reached out to take the bottle away and Setzer snarled at him, wrapping both hands around the glass. “Get your own,” he muttered, bloodshot violet eyes lowering to stare into the bottle’s depths as though it held the secrets of the universe.

Edgar sighed, and sat in the chair opposite Setzer.

Celes opted to remain standing, resting one hand on the tabletop, the other fisted on her hip. “It’s good to see you, Setzer. I didn’t know you survived.”

Setzer scoffed. “Survived may be a bit of a stretch,” he drawled lazily, swirling the liquid in the bottle idly, but not taking another drink. “Lost all of you. Lost my wings.” His voice was broken, part from grief, part from the alcohol flooding his system. “We lost. Lost.”

“But we lived,” Celes argued. “We can still fight. We can still make things right.”

Edgar stayed quiet, but he winced as he watched Setzer drink deeply from the bottle, draining it before tossing it carelessly aside to crash against the nearby wall, shattering into pieces.

“Nothing to fucking fight for,” Setzer said crossly, swaying a bit where he sat. “Nothing left. All gone.”

Celes heaved a sigh and slammed both hands on the tabletop between the two men, causing Edgar to jump and Setzer to blink up at her owlishly. “That’s enough!” She glared at the gambler. “What the hell happened to you? The Setzer I knew wouldn’t give up like this. What have you been doing the past year? Drinking?” she laughed harshly. “Sabin’s been traveling the world saving people. Terra’s been raising orphaned children. And you’ve been killing your liver. Nice.”

Setzer seemed to come back to himself a bit, his eyes sharpening as he looked up at Celes. “What the fuck else would I do? I lost _everything_.” He reached out as if to take another drink and sighed when he realized the bottle was broken on the floor, not full of booze on the table. “I can’t fight. I got nothing. No wings. No dreams.” His laugh was grating and joyless. “There’s no dreams left in this flightless, barren world.”

“So find a new dream,” Celes tried to persuade him out of this drunken foul mood.

“Or an old one,” Edgar broke in.

Celes looked at him curiously, wondering where he was going with this, but happy for someone else to try and talk to the maudlin gambler.

Edgar leaned forward, meeting Setzer’s hazy purple gaze with his own sharp blue eyes, speaking very slowly and deliberately, hoping the words made sense despite all the alcohol. “She’s alive.”

“Well, duh,” Setzer pointed at Celes and rolled his eyes at Edgar. “I’m not too drunk to see that.”

Edgar looked skyward a moment, before standing and leaning forward, almost pressing his forehead to Setzer’s, speaking loudly and clearly enough, he hoped, to pierce the stupid amount of alcohol flooding his friend’s senses. “Daryl’s alive, you idiot.”

Celes gasped. In all her excitement to find another friend, she hadn’t even had the decency to make this connection. Her cheeks flushed scarlet with shame.

Setzer stared at Edgar. He looked at Celes, then looked back at Edgar. “This is cruel.” He glared. “I know I’m drunk, I know I’m a fuck up, but this is cruel.”

“He’s not lying to you,” Celes assured him, laying a gentle hand on the crown of his head and surreptitiously casting a Cure spell to start and ease him out of inebriation. “She was with me when I woke up six months ago.” Celes smiled at him. “She’s here with us.”

Neither Celes nor Edgar expected Setzer Gabbiani, famed gambler, genius pilot, battle hardened hero, to press his face into his hands and cry.

Celes looked at Edgar over the top of Setzer’s head as she smoothed her palm over his tangled silver hair soothingly. “What now?” she mouthed to him.

The King of Figaro shrugged, looking helpless. He jerked his head towards the doorway and lifted his eyebrows in silent query.

Celes nodded, understanding his silent communication. She tossed him her gil pouch so he would have adequate funds to secure sufficient lodgings at the Inn. While the castle was only an hour’s walk away, there was no way Setzer could walk that far in this state.

After a while, he stopped crying, and Celes dragged the other chair from across the table so she could sit beside him rather than across from him, continuing to gently run a hand over his hair. She didn’t really know what to say, so she decided to start at the beginning. “I was in a coma for a year after the world was ruined,” she told her story softly. “When I woke up, I found Daryl had been taking care of me. We were stranded on an island…” It took the better part of an hour, but she brought him up to speed on her, and part of Daryl’s, story. It would be up to the others to fill him in on their adventures. She finished with explaining how they followed Edgar from Nikeah, and eventually ended up at loose ends at Figaro Castle, not sure what to do next, and how that had led them to Kohlingen that day.

Setzer looked like he was starting to sober up, likely a combination of the Cure spell, the tears, and the harrowing tale Celes set forth so straightforwardly.

He still wasn’t sober enough when he saw an achingly familiar woman walk through the door, flanked by the Figaro brothers, and followed by the green haired half-Esper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am a cruel-hearted person, to leave a cliffhanger right here.
> 
> *bows*


	15. Chapter 15

Edgar hadn’t known what to tell Daryl, so he hadn’t told her anything he hadn’t also told the rest of the group: that he and Celes had decided to spend the night at the Inn in Kohlingen, and that she was waiting for them at the Tavern. He felt like he should have better prepared Daryl for this reunion, but he didn’t know _how_. So instead, he just made sure to stay at her side as they entered the Tavern, knowing the exact instant she saw her former lover from the way that all color drained from her face and she slumped bonelessly against himself and Sabin in a faint.

Terra tsked and circled around from Sabin’s other side to lay hands on Daryl’s face gently, whispering words of healing magic as she leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on the unconscious woman’s brow.

Edgar could feel Daryl start to come to, her body going tense against his as she struggled to find her footing. He surreptitiously helped her to stand and then let his hands drop away, knowing she was no helpless damsel.

As the group walked over to the tiny table Setzer and Celes still sat around, Edgar cleared his throat, offering the suggestion, “Perhaps a larger table? Does this Tavern have a private dining room?”

“Good thinking, bro,” Sabin agreed. “Lemme go ask.” The monk walked off.

“So…” Edgar trailed off, his diplomatic skills of making idle conversation completely failing, unable to look away as Daryl and Setzer just stared at each other. Edgar noticed that while Setzer primarily just looked shocked, Daryl’s face varied between a myriad of different emotions: shock was predominant, yes, but she flickered through anger, love, sadness, elation. It had been almost twelve years after all. Edgar had no idea what he would feel if he was in either of their shoes.

Thankfully, Terra jumped in, hugging Setzer and talking about how happy she was to see that he survived, and it was only a few moments later that Sabin came back with the barkeep in his wake, ready to lead them to the dining room.

While this establishment lacked a private dining room, there were no other customers currently seated at any of the tables within, since the hour was squarely in between luncheon and supper. The few other patrons were all at the bar doing some day drinking.

The six all gathered around a large table. Daryl sat at one end of a bench, her leg pressed tightly against that of Celes. Sabin sat on Celes’s other side. Terra sat opposite of Daryl with Edgar beside her, and Setzer down at the opposite end.

Now that their initial shock seemed to have worn off, Edgar noticed that Daryl and Setzer studiously avoided looking at each other, and either had yet to verbally acknowledge the other’s presence. The young King of Figaro felt a tension headache start to throb at the base of his skull. All his years of training to deal with courtiers and fellow monarchs, and he had not a single clue how to help facilitate this reunion.

Instead, he decided to get this unofficial meeting of the Returners started, as soon as the waiter brought their refreshments. Despite only having eaten a couple hours ago, Edgar grinned to himself seeing Sabin digging into the food like a starving man. Some things never changed.

“Well,” he began, pausing a moment to ensure all were paying attention. “These last few days have been a bit of a whirlwind, hm? First you all had the incredibly good fortune to find yours truly,” he pointed at his own chest, before giving a thumbs up gesture and another grin. “And now we found one more wayward soul,” he angled his head to his left, where Setzer sat ignoring his food in favor of playing with his fork.

“The real question is,” the King of Figaro continued, while cutting his meat. “Where do we go from here?”

“I heard rumors about a fight club up north!” Sabin said enthusiastically. “Dude who runs the weapon shop said a guy opened an honest-to-gods Coliseum, where people complete for prizes and glory and stuff.” He stopped talking long enough to take another big bite of his food. “Maybe we go there, recruit some more muscle to the cause?”

Edgar nodded. “Not a bad idea, brother. We can certainly use all the help we can muster up in the battle against Kefka.” He looked around the group, meeting each person’s eyes in turn. “Did anyone else learn anything?”

“The seasons aren’t changing,” Daryl muttered so quietly Edgar almost couldn’t hear her. He smiled encouragingly at the pilot, gesturing for her to continue.

Daryl sighed, and carefully kept her brown eyes focused on Edgar as she elaborated. “The shopkeeper at the item shop told me it had been this perpetual summer since the breaking. I hadn’t been sure, back on the island, if it was just from where it was located, you know? But this far north, it should be the dead of winter right now, and it’s boiling outside.” She stopped talking, jaw closing with an audible click, before taking a deep drink from her glass of water, her facial expression showing how much she wished it were something stronger.

“Further evidence that Kefka must be stopped, and balance be restored,” Edgar stated. He looked around again, waiting to see if anyone else had anything to offer, though he already knew they didn’t. Terra had told him on the walk to the tavern that the innkeeper knew nothing, and he already knew what Celes had learned. As for Setzer, that man didn’t know anything but how much a bottle cost.

“So, perhaps tomorrow, we return to Figaro Castle for supplies,” Edgar mused aloud. “And then we can see about heading northward to this Coliseum Sabin heard about.” He sighed ruefully. “I don’t know if any of the castle chocobos survived, but if our luck holds, perhaps we won’t have to walk.”

“Why walk when you could fly?” the gambler’s voice was low, and a bit uncertain, a stark contrast to how bold the man usually sounded.

All eyes turned to Setzer, except for those of Daryl, which were studiously trained on the tabletop.

“How?” Edgar finally asked, after everyone’s silence had drawn on long enough.

Setzer pushed a hand through his messy silver-white hair, violet eyes going to Daryl. He sighed when he saw she wouldn’t look up, and he looked at Edgar instead. “When I…” he swallowed audibly. “When I found the wreck of the Falcon, but not Daryl’s body, I needed something to lay to rest.”

Daryl’s spine had gone stiff, but she still refused to look up.

Edgar tried to be patient. “Okay, that’s understandable, but how does a wrecked airship help us fly?”

“It’s not wrecked anymore,” Setzer admitted. “I spent several years restoring the craft, and then I laid it to rest at the tomb Daryl’s family had erected in her memory.” He shrugged a bit uncomfortably, aware that Daryl had finally raised unreadable brown eyes from the table to bore into his purple visage. “It should still work, if the cataclysm left the tomb intact. And it shouldn’t be far from here.”

Daryl abruptly stood up so fast that she knocked into the table, causing the half the water to slosh over the rim of her glass. “Excuse me,” she muttered, and left the room.

Celes stood, clearly ready to follow her friend, but then sat back down with a sigh. Perhaps it was best to give her some time.

Edgar cleared his throat, just wanting this meeting over so he could retire for the night with a glass of wine and a book. “Okay. Well, that’s great. Setzer, you can lead us there tomorrow?”

The gambler nodded assent.

“All right. We’ll go to Daryl’s… err… the Falcon’s Tomb,” he flushed, not sure how to refer to the place that had apparently served as a memorial for a woman who still lived, “first thing in the morning. If the Falcon is in working order, we’ll fly to the Coliseum, and see what we can make of it.” He looked at each person in turn. “Sound good?” Everyone nodded. “All right. Well, we’ll leave at dawn. Go enjoy the comforts of town before we’re on the road again.”

 

Daryl wandered aimlessly around Kohlingen, lost in her thoughts. By the Warring Triad, it had been such a surreal day. First she walks into the pub to find Setzer sitting there. Then they ignore each other for several hours. Then she learns that instead of looking for her, he spent his time rebuilding her Falcon and entombing it. She feels a little anger at how he offered it up to their mutual friends. The Falcon was _hers_. It was _not_ his to give away. Her anger calmed quickly, however, since she knew she would have done the same thing. Having use of an airship would make a huge difference in the battles to come. She just hoped the rending of the world hadn’t destroyed the tomb, and the ship tucked away inside.

Daryl decided not to get her hopes up. The last thing she needed to do was to expect to be airborne at long last, and then have tomorrow come and show the Falcon was unusable.

The second to last thing she needed to do was expect Setzer to still care for her, no matter what stories Edgar told her about pictures carried around and memories shared.

_Twelve years_ , she thought, shaking her head. _It’s been almost twelve years. I don’t even know what to say to him. ‘Hello, love. Missed you.’_ She snorted. _‘Why the fuck didn’t you keep looking for me?’_ Her footsteps became more like stalking, her emotions needing an outlet in some way.

Daryl realized her feet had carried her to a clearing at one side of the town, and she nodded to herself. Her body knew what she needed even if she didn’t. Unsheathing both her daggers, she began to spin around in the deadly dance of practice combat, battling unseen opponents, mentally reviewing how to access her spells, as her body utilized muscle memory from the hours and hours of training she’d undergone these last six months, hardly requiring any of her attention to continue thrusting and parrying against the invisible monsters.

Daryl grunted in surprise as a shortsword countered one of her daggers. Spinning the knife in one hand, she turned a glare on the man who dared interrupt her practice session. And she had just started to calm down, too.

“Setzer,” she acknowledged, her face closed off, eyes carefully blank.

“Daryl,” he replied, tipping an invisible hat to her in salute, drawing back his sword.

After several minutes of long, painful silence, he sighed. “You looked beau—like you could use a sparring partner.” The self-styled Wandering Gambler was not accustomed to tripping over his words, but he still felt a bit like he was dreaming.

Daryl snickered. “Not like you to get your hands dirty outside of an engine room,” she snarked, raising her daggers once more. Sarcasm was a safe, sharp shield.

“A man can change over the years,” Setzer said through gritted teeth, readying his sword and trying to remember the combat techniques his friends had taught him before the world ended and he spent over a year in his cups.

“I know,” Daryl sounded haunted, despair flaring in her dark eyes a moment before she could contain it. She began moving through various combat forms again as Celes had taught her, feeling the hum of arcane energy buzzing at her fingertips as Terra had taught her.

“You… look well,” Setzer attempted more conversation as they fought, his breathing heavy as his body was no longer used to such exertions.

Daryl smirked. “I know.” It was easy to fall into old habits, she mused as they sparred. “Having trouble keeping up, old man? Need a break?”

“Old?” Setzer growled, pulling off a flashy parry. “Darling, you’re a month younger than me.” Old habits, did, indeed, die hard.

She scoffed, moving faster, daggers flashing in the slowly dying light. “I’ve spent the last six months fighting, after spending a year working my ass off day-in and day-out just to stay alive. You’ve spent that time drinking.” She smirked and spun to the side, catching him unawares as she darted forward, ending with her daggers crossed in an X at the base of his throat.

Setzer hardly dared to breathe with how close those knives were to his windpipe. “I concede,” he muttered.

“Hmm?” Daryl cocked her head to one side, grinning. “Can’t hear you.”

“I concede!” the gambler shouted, eyebrows drawn down in what was meant to be a scowl, but looked more like a pout.

With a final smirk, Daryl drew back her weapons, re-sheathing them. She started to walk away, tossing words back over her shoulder, “Next time don’t start something you can’t finish.” She drew in a few deep, slightly ragged breaths, feeling emotionally spent from keeping up the cocky facade. Daryl just wasn’t ready to deal with this.

_Oh you’re not walking away from me_ , Setzer fumed internally, striding forward and catching up with Daryl easily, his longer legs making short work of the distance between them. He reached out and grabbed her bicep, halting her forward motion.

Daryl turned and arched an eyebrow at him, internally begging for this moment to be over so she could just go cry into her pillow for a while, but determined to show him none of her weakness. _Ten. Fucking. Years._ she reminded herself. “What?” she demanded.

Setzer wasn’t sure what to say to her. He certainly didn’t expect to find himself kissing her, his hands tangled in her wind-blown hair.

Daryl felt a moment of unparalleled fury when his lips captured hers, but she decided the hell with it, and she returned the kiss intensely, trying to convey all the warring feelings she’d had swirling around inside her since she’d first seen him earlier that day.

She allowed the kiss to continue a long moment before she bit his lower lip, startling him into breaking the kiss. After giving him the type of wordless, mysterious look women seem to be born knowing, she turned and walked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Broken" by Seether, ft Amy Lee


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may or may not have been written while I drank a lot of wine. *shifty eyes*

Daryl wandered all over town until she found her friends. Celes and Terra were, a bit predictably, getting settled in at the inn, but Daryl was glad she had taken the longer walk rather than going there first. It gave her a little time to think and to calm down, again. Despite their pooled funds being more than enough for everyone to have their own room, the three women had opted to share a room, none of them especially wanting to be alone.

“Hey!” Daryl greeted, walking in. “What, are you guys 90 or something? It’s not bedtime. It’s drink time!” She grinned rakishly, hoping to entice her friends into a night of stupidity, needing a break from all the drama and end of the world of it all.

Celes quirked a brow, prepared to be all Responsible General Chere, but then shrugged. They _had_ had a rough few months. One night of acting like normal twenty-somethings wouldn’t hurt. “I’m in,” she announced, jumping down from her bunk and straightening her clothing.

Terra worried her bottom lip between her teeth a moment, emerald green eyes flitting between Daryl and Celes, before timidly saying, “I… could go for a hot cocoa? Is that okay?”

Daryl grinned, offering the half-Esper woman a hand and helping her to her feet, sweeping a mock-gallant bow over the hand she still clasped in her own, before straightening and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You can have whatever your magical heart desires,” she cooed in Terra’s ear, hugging her friend. The arm not wrapped around Terra raised triumphantly, a fancy looking leather pouch dangling from clever fingers. “It’s all on King Figaro tonight!”

Celes laughed. She knew Edgar would actually be more than willing to foot the bill for their evening, so she had no moral objection to Daryl swiping his purse. She spared a brief thought for another thief she held dear, then followed her friends out of the inn, and back across town to the tavern.

The tavern was crowded. Not unusual, as a town the size of Kohlingen only had the one pub, and there was little else to do in the evenings for fun. A man with a fiddle sat in one corner lost to his music, nodding his head in time with the cheery tune. The tables were packed, so the ladies stood in a corner, keeping an eye out for when seats might open.

A waitress approached them with a glass of wine. She gave Celes a rueful look and pointed to a nondescript man sitting at one end of the bar, who raised his glass at the Magitek Knight in greeting. “Compliments of the gentleman,” the waitress said drolly. “Can I get you other two ladies anything?”

“Yes!” Daryl said brightly. “I’ll take a rum and… rum. And our friend here would like hot cocoa. Maybe you can add a little flavor to it?” She grinned at the waitress before looking at her green haired friend. “Terra, do you like peppermint?”

The smaller woman clapped her hands together in childlike glee. “I love it!”

Daryl nodded, and winked at the waitress. “A peppermint hot cocoa for my friend. And keep our drinks comin’!” She passed over a generous handful of gil.

Celes suddenly shouted “HA!” as she saw a table empty, and she practically dove on to one of the stools, Terra and Daryl close behind her. The waitress brought Daryl her rum, and Terra a delightful looking mug of chocolate piled with whipped cream. The women enjoyed their drinks, Daryl teasing Celes about the man at the bar who sent her a second glass of wine before too long, Terra content to just giggle and sip her cocoa, feeling so warm from the hot beverage.

“OK, so, spill.” Daryl said in a mock serious voice. “Which Figaro would you choose?” She grinned widely at her friends as she tried to instigate some hilarious girl talk, something she was woefully out of practice with, but the rum helped her remember.

Terra blushed crimson and squirmed on her stool, playing with her mug.

Celes laughed at Daryl’s question and responded, “Oh, that’s easy. Sabin. All that meditation and practice with channeling his _energies_?” She giggled like a girl half her age who hadn’t faced the end of the world and spent a year in a coma. “And those muscles. It would be nice being with a man stronger than me for a change!” She drained her glass of wine, setting the empty to the side, and picking up the second the random man at the bar had sent her. She should probably thank him, but she didn’t feel like talking to anyone but her friends.

Terra sipped at her hot cocoa, and the heat in her cheeks was no longer simply an embarrassed blush, but an effect of the mint liquor added to the sweet confection. “I think Edgar would be very kind,” she admitted a bit nervously. “I know he acts like he gets around, but I think he’s a romantic at heart,” she sighed wistfully, stars in her eyes. She might be a supremely powerful magical creature, but all she really wanted was love. She had found more love than she dreamed of with her children, but she still wanted to find the other type of love some day.

Daryl grinned encouragingly and offered her cup in a toast to both ladies, before drinking deeply.

“Hey,” Celes said, narrowing her eyes at Daryl. “You gotta answer, too.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I hadn’t answered,” Daryl drawled teasingly, her tongue flickering out to wet her lower lip before she smirked. “My answer is: why choose?”

Terra choked on her cocoa.

Celes roared with laughter.

Daryl just grinned smugly, draining her glass, and standing a moment later, gathering up their empties. “Who’s ready for more?”

Celes nodded assent, Terra demurred as she was still working on her first mug.

Daryl sauntered over to the bar and set down their empty glasses carefully away from the edge, then leaned against the polished wood to wait her turn. Her foot tapped in tune with the riotous melody coming from the fiddler in the corner.

“Come here often?” she heard a low, teasing voice next to her ear, and felt a hand rest at the small of her back. She turned to face the interloper with a scathing retort prepared, but chuckled seeing it was the King of Figaro.

“Do you always ask women about _coming_?” she crassly responded, hoping to see the pretty man blush.

Edgar didn’t disappoint, turning a darker crimson than the wine he was nursing. “Ahem. Yes, well. I just thought I’d say hello.”

Daryl decided to be nice. “Celes and Terra are over there,” she pointed to their table. “You can say hi, but then scram. We have serious women’s business tonight.” She affected an overly solemn tone, but it was belied by the humor in her dark eyes. Making a split second decision that she may regret later, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Terra likes you. Use this knowledge for good, or for awesome. Don’t be a dick,” was her advice before she drew away, leaving him more confused than ever.

“Right. Well… be seeing you,” he muttered, before walking over to greet the other women.

Daryl giggled to herself. Hey, if Terra liked the guy, she could be a wingwoman. Ahh, wings! Tomorrow she might get her wings back! Beaming in a joy only partway inspired by the rum, she continued patiently waiting her turn for the barkeep’s attention.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a voice lazily drawled in her ear, and she was startled out of her tipsy reverie, tipping her head back to meet Setzer’s eyes, inwardly cursing his ridiculous height. Daryl was not a short woman, but still had to look up to the gambler.

That used to arouse her. Tonight it annoyed her.

“What, you boys just didn’t know what to do without us for one night?” she snarked at her childhood sweetheart, trying to make eye contact with the barkeep or the waitress, so she could collect their refills and go back to her friends.

“On the contrary,” Setzer replied, a smirk curling his full lips. “We seemed to have the same idea as you ladies.” He snickered. “Well, except for Sabin. He ate enough dinner for ten men, and is now sleeping the sleep of the overfed. But Edgar and I decided to blow off a little steam.” Setzer shook his head ruefully. “And get away from Sabin’s snoring.”

Daryl laughed despite herself. Oh, Goddesses, she _wanted_ to hate Setzer for not finding her. But tonight, with the music in her ears and the rum warming her blood, she just couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. She had been so angry and so sad for so long. Tonight, she was going to be happy.

She grinned up at Setzer, catching her lower lip in her teeth, dark eyes half shrouded by thick eyelashes. “I am sure you and Edgar will find something to do to pass the time,” she said. As the bartender came over to take her order, the spell was broken, and she tore brown eyes away from those of violet. Getting her drinks, she raised them carefully, not wanting to spill any of the precious beverages. She offered Setzer a crooked smile. “If you’ll excuse me?” With a chuckle, she walked back over to her friends.

To say he was utterly gobsmacked would be an understatement. Setzer watched Daryl sashay away, his eyes perhaps more focused on her hips than they should be, before he shook his head, and placed his own order with the barkeep. Drinks in hand, he went to stand next to Edgar. The young King of Figaro was quite earnestly flirting with the clueless, mildly buzzed half-Esper.

“Edgar,” Setzer said. “C’mon, let’s give these ladies their peace.” He wanted to get away from Daryl’s magnetic presence. He wanted to fall to his knees and worship the ground she walked on. Fuck, he wanted more booze.

As the men walked away, the women clinked their glasses in a toast, Daryl doing hers as a shot despite the fact it decidedly was not one. Celes was more temperate, simply taking a large gulp of her wine. Terra still sipped at her cocoa, green eyes bright from the music and the liquor.

Daryl was pleased with her foresight to order herself two drinks, and she nursed the second one while her friends chatter washed over her.

Celes got her attention with a question and an inquisitively quirked eyebrow. “So what was _that_ all about?” she nodded towards the bar.

Daryl scowled. “Setzer thinks he’s charming.” Her scowl turned into a grin. “ _I’m_ charming! Even without the rum. He’s just a scoundrel with a short attention span,” her words trailed into a mutter as they went from good-natured to bitter in a matter of seconds.

Terra blinked, not entirely sure what the other two women were talking about. She decided to finish her cocoa and just listen. She was, after all, a good listener.

For Celes’s part, she just looked at Daryl. The two women had spent months together with no other company, and didn’t always need words to get their point across.

Daryl sighed. “He followed me earlier,” she almost, but not quite, whined. “Found me practicing with my daggers. Offered to spar. Lost,” her tone turned triumphant, and the corners of her lips turned up in a brief smile. “Then he kissed me.”

Celes blinked. “What did you do?”

Daryl laughed. “I kissed him back! Then I bit him, and then I walked away to find you guys. Now I’m drinking.” She nodded, her explanation seeming perfectly reasonable to her. “Now he followed me to the fucking bar on girls’ night.”

Celes tried hard not to laugh. She really did. But Daryl was adorable in her earnest explanation. “Was it at least a good kiss?” she asked the important question.

Terra leaned forward, not wanting to miss this.

“Mmm… yes,” Daryl nodded, a broad smile having nothing to do with her inebriation lighting up her face. “He was a good kisser a decade ago. Now, he’s an _exceptionally_ good kisser.” She smirked. “And since I am, of course, an _amazing_ kisser, it was a really good kiss.”

Celes didn’t try not to laugh any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I think we all can agree the heroes needed a break from all the angst, amirite?


	17. Chapter 17

Setzer screamed into consciousness, falling out of his bed in a tangle of blankets.

Fuck. He’d forgotten the nightmares. They had been what drove him to drink initially. He learned that only passing out from over indulging gave him dreamless sleep, if not terribly restful sleep. So he had spent over a year in various stages of intoxication, always ending the night with a bottle of strong spirits, ensuring he wouldn’t have to relive his darkest memories every night.

But last night, despite going ‘round to the pub with Edgar, he hadn’t gotten drunk again, once he had sobered up from his day drinking. He had actually ordered something non-alcoholic, thinking it prudent to face today’s adventure sober, now that he actually had things worth being sober for in his life again.

Now that he had people worth being sober for in his life again.

_Her._

Setzer however was cursing his decision this morning, having spent the night locked back in the familiar nightmares.

First would be the most common one, and surely one of the most terrifying memories that the gambler had. The Blackjack being torn asunder beneath his feet. Watching his friends being pitched overboard. Struggling to keep the dying ship on course, desperately praying to gods he’d never really believed in that something, anything, could stop this tragedy.

That nightmare would have his heart racing, blood pumping, body restlessly tossing and turning in bed.

But it was nothing compared to the other one.

The other one was less bombastic, but not less terrifying. He was sitting on, what to others might seem, a rather unremarkable hill some miles outside the Jidoor city limits. He was smiling as he scanned the sky, waiting to see the Falcon approaching, bring his love back from her afternoon of solo flight.

As the sun slowly set, his blood began turning to ice in his veins. Where was she? Why hadn’t she come?

Standing, he would run back to town in a manner most unreflective of his typically nonchalant attitude. Perhaps he misunderstood. Maybe she was waiting in town.

But he wouldn’t find her.

He would eventually find her shattered Falcon, but not her, never her.

While he didn’t have to watch her crash, the way he watched his friends fall, and he didn’t have to witness the Falcon’s destruction the way he felt the Blackjack come apart, it was still the single most horrifying and frightening memory that Setzer had.

Now, panting hoarsely, trying to catch his breath, feeling uncomfortably hot and soaked with sweat where he sat half leaning against the bed, still snarled up in the mass of bed linens, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could lay this dream to rest the way he once had buried her airship.

She was _alive_. She was down the hallway.

Setzer untangled himself gracelessly and cursed this backwater town inn’s lack of bathing facilities. Using the wash basin in his room, he did the best he could to wash away the sweat, to attempt to fix his painfully snarled hair, to straighten filthy clothes that he’d worn for months without washing.

Grimacing at his reflection in the small, somewhat warped glass of the mirror, he wondered if he had a chance at convincing the group to a side trip to Figaro Castle before making for the Tomb. His own vanity aside, it seemed disrespectful to go grave robbing looking like… well, a man who’d spent his time drinking to the exclusion of all else, even hygiene.

He winced as he internally corrected his thoughts. It wasn’t grave robbing, not really, when the woman honored by the tomb was miraculously alive, and willing to share her greatest treasure.

She’s alive, he thought for the hundredth time that day, still not fully understanding this fact.

He had the prudence to chug a Remedy, chasing the foul taste down with some water. It wasn’t a cure-all, but it was helping with the effects of alcohol withdrawal. He’d have to remember to ask one of the mages for a Cure later.

Closing his eyes, he took a couple deep breaths, then plastered a cocky grin on his face and headed down to the common room to find his friends.

 

Daryl felt like _shit_. Wait, no. That was an understatement. But fuck if she could think of a stronger word with how her head pounded. With a groan that she hoped was quieter to her friends than it sounded to her, she pushed to be sitting up in bed, leaning forward to cradle her throbbing head between her hands gingerly.

Becoming aware that she was the focus of two sets of concerned eyes, she muttered, “What’s a woman gotta do to get a Cure around here?”, then groaned again since despite her best efforts to whisper, her words sounded like a shout. Why did she have to be so close to herself? Argh.

Celes pursed her lips and summoned the ungraciously requested magic, bathing Daryl in a soft golden glow for a moment, and easing the worst of her headache.

“Thanks,” Daryl offered an extremely sheepish smile with her words. “I guess I overdid it a bit last night.”

Terra surprised them both by being the one with a sharp retort instead of her usual soft spoken words. “Ya think?”

Daryl blushed. “In my defense, we are literally going to my tomb today. I needed to unwind.”

“Maybe next time,” Celes suggested diplomatically, “you unwind a little less?”

Daryl laughed despite her still slightly aching head. “Hopefully there isn’t another time I have to visit my own grave!”

The women got ready to face the day and, belongings in tow, headed down to find their friends and some breakfast.

Daryl kept her head held high and allowed the smallest smirk to curve her lips. She’d be damned if she’d look hungover. She’d look _fucking fabulous_ , despite the lingering headache the Cure magic hadn’t totally eradicated.

Following behind Terra and Celes, she glanced around the dining room as they entered, and she saw Setzer and Edgar talking quietly by the coffee pot. Sabin was already seated and looked to be completely destroying a huge omelet.

She sighed inwardly, and arranged her face into what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Morning, all. Is that coffee I smell?”

Her words seemed to break the ice that had momentarily covered the group in silence (except for the sound of Sabin’s eating) when the women had walked in, and voices began chattering idly as people began loading plates and fetching themselves drinks.

Daryl settled for a large mug of black coffee and a seat a bit away from the others, not really ready to deal with people-ing yet.

Slowly the group’s light banter shifted to planning the day’s tasks. Edgar suggested a stopover at Figaro Castle before they searched for the tomb, a suggestion that all agreed with, though none as vociferously as Setzer. Daryl felt a weight ease slightly off her shoulders. She was certainly grateful for a delay of several hours before having to see the grave her parents made for their assumed deceased daughter. Not to mention the Falcon. Was it flight worthy? Had the cataclysm brought the tomb down to crush it into useless trash?

After paying the innkeeper, the group set out at a brisk walk, Edgar leading the way with Terra, perhaps unsurprisingly after the last night’s confession, at his side. Sabin and Celes followed, deep in a discussion about battle techniques, leaving Daryl and Setzer a bit uncomfortably bringing up the rear, the former staring so hard at her friend’s blonde head one might think she was trying to magically will her to turn around and take pity on her plight, the latter just looking at the scenery and struggling to think of something to talk about, not typically a difficult task for the charismatic man.

Daryl finally broke the silence “So. You had the audacity to try and repair my Falcon? I hope you didn’t fuck her up too badly.” She shot a look sidelong at the silver haired man.

With a strangled sound half curse and half laugh, Setzer shot back, “I wager she’s in better shape than she’s ever been.”

“Wager, you say?” Daryl asked slyly, remembering one of the stories Celes had told her on their long walk looking for survivors. “I hear you like making foolish wagers.”

Setzer quirked a puzzled brow.

Daryl continued in the sweetest voice she could manage. Quite a feat for a woman that at times seemed to have a dagger for a tongue. “Celes told me about your romantic marriage proposal.” She snickered. “Seriously, Setzer? You tried to kidnap that Opera diva, then when you realized you had the wrong blonde, you wagered matrimony on a coin toss?” Her snickers grew into full blown laughter and she shook her head in disbelief, continuing to follow her friends.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Setzer tossed back his long silver-white hair, and insisted, “Hey, _she’s_ the one that offered the bargain. I just accepted it.”

“And didn’t even have the brains to look over the coin before she flipped it,” Daryl needled him. “Getting sloppy in your old age.”

Setzer just shook his head. “You know I’ve always been a fool for beautiful women.” He slanted a meaningful look in her direction.

Daryl decided to ignore the flush she felt creeping over her cheeks at his not-so-subtle compliment, and completely changed the subject. “We should be to the castle soon, I hope. I need a bath. And more coffee.”

Setzer laughed. “A woman after my own heart. Some things never change,” he said fondly, smiling at her.

Daryl enjoyed the moment, smiling back, before she remembered that he had _stopped looking for her_ , and reality came crashing back down around her. Her only response to his friendly words was to look away and stare at Celes’s head again as they continued their march to Figaro.

He stopped looking. He lived his life. And she? She fucking _gardened_ in a tiny hamlet at the back end of nowhere.

She curled her hands into such tight fists she could feel her nails cutting into her calloused palms. She desperately wanted to ask him why. Why had he given up? There was a logical, rational part of her mind that realized he had only been 17, too. Barely beginning to be an adult, not having dealt with any adult responsibilities, sequestering himself with his own projects and keeping to the skies as much as possible. Sure, they had been in love, but they were children. It wasn’t fair for her to expect him to spend his whole life looking for someone who, based on the evidence of the Falcon’s corpse, was certainly dead.

But, emotions aren’t logical. While it had been so many years, since Daryl had spent most of them literally out of her mind, as far as her memories and time-sense were concerned, it had been roughly 18 months since the crash of the Falcon.

She was still completely, undeniably, infuriatingly in love with him.

At least, in love with her memory of who he had been.

She needed to get to know who he had become. And part of that meant asking the difficult questions. Asking him about his life the past twelve years.

Daryl needed to learn who she was in this brave new world. She had been many wildly different things in her younger life. Debutante, academic. Socialite, mechanic. Pampered daughter, reckless pilot.

Who was she now?

Who did she _want_ to be?

Before too much longer, they reached the castle, and headed inside to make preparations for the search for what they had all started calling the Falcon’s Tomb. Daryl’s stomach twisted nauseously at the idea of seeing her own grave. It was an incredibly unsettling thought.

She was glad she wasn’t doing it alone.

That thought buoyed her mood as they made their preparations. _She wasn’t alone anymore._

Of course, the bath helped, too.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one song that should be in your head going into Daryl's Tomb, and you all know what it is.

The group walked southwest from Figaro Castle in a somewhat solemn procession. All had availed themselves of the bathing facilities and taken the opportunity to change into clean clothing, borrowed from the castle wardrobes, leaving their things behind to be laundered. They had also stopped by the armory and gotten some gear, just in case they ran into any monsters on the way.

Terra worried her lower lip in her teeth as she walked, glancing between her friends. She, like they all, she assumed, was hopeful at the prospect of a new airship and a much easier time getting around on their mission to vanquish Kefka and restore balance to the ruin, but she felt emotions were running high, not all of them positive. In particular she worried about Daryl. The past few months she’d watched Daryl struggle with depression, trying to find her place in this broken world, trying to remember who she was after spending so much time living a life that wasn’t truly hers. The past few days, Terra had seen more joy in Daryl’s eyes than she’d seen the entire time she’d known her, and it all seemed to come down to the charismatic violet eyed man who was leading their party this afternoon.

But Terra wasn’t so naive as to think the two pilots would simply pick up where they left off. Long years had passed, they weren’t children on the cusp of adulthood anymore. Both had suffered in different ways. She knew Setzer struggled with his guilt, and yearned for absolution. Just as she knew Daryl struggled with her anger, and yearned to forgive.

Deep in her heart, though, Terra had faith in her friends. She’d seen the way they watched each other when they thought no one was looking. Yes, they had to get to know each other all over again, but…. love was love.

The green haired woman smiled sweetly to herself at the romanticism of it all, then dropped back a pace to walk in step with Daryl, linking arms with the taller woman and asking delicately. “How are you? Truly?”

The pilot slanted a sidelong glance at her friend, lips quirked in an expression that could almost be called a smile. “I’m walking to my own tomb, Terra. This is the most surreal day I have ever lived.”

“That’s fair,” Terra chuckled softly. “But, you’re not doing it alone, okay?” Her smile turned into a more girlish, almost giddy, grin. “And we’ll be flying again tonight! I know how you’ve longed for the skies. So this can’t be all bad… right?” Terra wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure her friend, or herself. Maybe a bit of both.

Daryl reached out and squeezed the half-Esper’s hand, her closed expression melting into a more genuine smile. “That part is definitely not bad. I just hope that gambler didn’t fuck up my baby when he laid her to rest.”

Terra giggled. “I’m sure you can fix it.” She tried for a casual, I’m-totally-not-crushing-on-the-king tone of voice. “Perhaps Edgar could help. He’s good with mechanical things.”

Daryl laughed. “I don’t usually like to let others get their hands on the Falcon’s innards, but we’ll see.”

The walk was rather uneventful, no monster attacks, and the group continued light, short conversations, though most were rather quietly introspective about the task at hand. After a few hours, Terra saw a large stone building, looking out of place amidst the wilds, no other buildings of any sort having been seen in miles.

This must be Daryl’s Tomb.

 

Daryl felt her feet falter. Well. Her parents really did go all out, didn’t they? She spared a moment to wonder if they still lived. They had already been at the upper limits of middle age when she had vanished, having had their child late in life. It was possible old age had claimed them if the cataclysm hadn’t. She’d try and find out what she could, when she could. But for now, she had to follow her friends as they descended into the tomb.

No one said anything. It was actually too quiet. She could hear the pounding of her heart as she walked through the small room the doorway opened into. There was an honest to goodness marble casket, though it certainly contained no body. An engraving read ‘Here lies Daryl. Beloved daughter, beloved friend’.

She inhaled sharply. _No crying, dammit. Focus. Get your wings._

The place was creepy. There was no other word for it. A slight breeze from the opened doorway stirred stagnant air, dust motes sparkling in the lone sunbeam that slanted over the casket. The group’s footsteps echoed in that odd way that makes it almost sound like someone else is walking behind you, beside you. Definitely an unsettling atmosphere.

Daryl followed as Setzer led them to a hidden staircase. Down and down it went, and as she walked, her thoughts rifled through memories. She thought about when she first built the Falcon, and had begun, quite recklessly, testing it out. Setzer had challenged her several times during the process, wondering what was was trying to prove by pushing both herself, and her ship, to their limits?

It hadn’t been about proving anything. It had just been _fun_.

She was brought out of her thoughts a moment later, hearing Setzer’s low voice cautioning the group to watch their step, and she was thankful for the warning as the interminable staircase grew steeper.

Falling back into her reverie, she recalled before one particular flight, a bit dramatically entreating Setzer to take care of the Falcon if something should happen to her. _Well_ , she mused. _He did._ She chuckled under her breath as she remembered that he had protested vehemently the idea that anything could possibly befall her, cockily insisting he’d take over the Falcon when he won it from her in a race. Daryl felt a smug smile lift the corners of her lips. He’d never managed to out fly her. If she had her way about it, he never would.

She thought about that final race they had shared. How she had shouted taunts at him that she always assumed were stolen by the wind, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She remembered the look on his face, eyes glinting, unbound hair a riotous nimbus around his head and shoulders as he steered the Blackjack.

Daryl had flown the Falcon next to his ship for few moments so they could have a shouted conversation across the railings of their vessels. She remembered boasting about touching the stars. He good-naturedly said he’d meet her at their hill.

She never made it to the hill.

She’d pushed the Falcon too high, too hard. She still didn’t have clear memories of what happened. She remembered pain. And then, she had her memories of the decade in the small village, living a simple life.

Then, the world broke, and she found herself.

Daryl hadn’t realized she’d started crying until she felt Terra’s arms wrap around her soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered.

“Ssh,” her friend stroked her hair. “It’s okay.”

Daryl was distantly aware that the rest of the their friends had paused, but none approached where she and Terra stood. After a couple minutes, she heard footsteps, and assumed they continued the trek down to the Falcon. She felt Terra’s arms release her and heard her friend murmur words about following when she was ready, and then she was alone.

Except that she wasn’t. She heard his voice softly infringing on her thoughts. “This sure brings back memories.”

Daryl felt his fingertips brush against hers delicately, but she didn’t give in to the impulse to take his hand. “No shit,” she responded.

He laughed shortly at her profanity, and clasped his hand around hers, tugging her back down the staircase. “That was the worst day of my life,” he said conversationally, though when she glanced at his face she saw his expression was strained.

“Mine, too,” she couldn’t help but quip.

He stopped and looked at her, brows drawn down, face unreadable in the faint flickering torchlight, then continued down the stairs.

“I searched for a year before I found the Falcon.” His voice hitched. “It was in pieces, Daryl. _Pieces_. I thought for sure no one could survive a wreck like that.” His voice was thick with remorse, and the effort of holding back tears. “But here you are,” Setzer whispered. “You _survived_.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said agreeably. “I survived. I learned how to garden. Gossiped with the other village women. Was courted by a farmer. Had _no fucking clue_ who I was until Kefka rained his shitstorm all over the world.” She laughed bitterly. “And now I am walking in my own grave.”

“I’m sorry,” Setzer said raggedly. “I shouldn’t have stopped looking. I should’ve found you. Dammit, I should have never given up hope!”

Daryl sighed as Setzer basically said everything she’d been thinking since she came back into her right mind eighteen months ago. And yet…

“Don’t,” she said. She reached out and laid her free hand on his shoulder, halting his forward progress.

He looked at her inquisitively, and she sighed.

“You found a shattered ship. You drew the logical conclusion.” Releasing his shoulder and taking her other hand back from his, she ran both hands through her hair, trying to shake off some of the restless energy this awkward discussion was causing to coil up in her gut. “Fuck, Setzer, you were a kid. We both were. The fact you looked for an entire year without having given up? That means something.”

“I tried _so_ hard, Daryl, but when I found the wreck…” tears streamed openly down his weathered cheeks now.

“I know,” she breathed, fisting her hands around the fabric of her jacket, white knuckled.

They looked at each other for a long moment until the tears stopped, and the tension between them began to fade. Then they resumed walking.

“You better not have fucked up my bird,” she warned him.

He snorted. “You won’t even recognize her, she’ll fly better than ever before!”

Somewhere in the boasting and the ribbing and the walking, their hands clasped again, and they didn’t let go until the finally reached the large, cavernous underground room holding the airship.

Their friends were already there, standing back a few yards from the entombed airship, quietly staring up at it, all almost reverent attitude fallen over the group. Daryl and Setzer walked up beside them. Setzer gave Daryl’s hand one last squeeze and then dropped it, taking a step forward that was almost a swagger, as he began boasting like a proud father.

“There she is, the Falcon. Fastest ship there ever was!”

Daryl rolled her eyes at her friends, but seemed content to let Setzer brag about _her_ baby.

“Why, I remember the first time she flew around the entire world,” he continued, oblivious to the amused looks everyone was sharing at his expense. “Started just outside of Jidoor. Let’s see, it was just before mid-Summer-”

He was abruptly cut off by a roar as a dragon’s head popped up from over the railing of the Falcon.

“What the fuck?!” Sabin shouted, as everyone scrambled for weapons.

Daryl glared fiercely. “That overgrown lizard better not splinter the deck.” She glanced at her friends. “Uh, killing dragon _good_ , breaking Falcon _bad_ , okay?”

The pilot kept her daggers sheathed in favor of magic. She was growing more and more comfortable with the arcane energies she had learned to channel. Daryl actually felt a bit uneasy on the rare occasions she took off the magicite necklace, and had started even leaving it on when she bathed.

She took the aforementioned magicite in hand now and inwardly beseeched it. _Maduin, please, assist me_. Crackling lightning filled the air and scored a direct hit on the dragon.

“Yes!” she crowed, fist pumping in the air.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s still standing,” Celes said drolly as she prepared a Blizzaga spell.

“Not for long,” Terra promised, Fira already sparking from her fingertips.

Sabin entered the fray with a particularly powerful Aura Bolt, and his brother followed suit by using his beloved auto-crossbow, riddling one side of the beast with rapidly fired arrows. Setzer didn’t seem to have any handy weapons at his disposal, having only grabbed a shortsword, but he surprised Daryl by using a type of magic unfamiliar to her. It wasn’t like the elemental magic Terra and Celes had been teaching her, and it wasn’t like the almost spiritual energies that Sabin used with his martial arts.

She could swear she heard a fucking slot machine. 

Prismatic hued beams of light shot up from the ground and stabbed the dragon, which bellowed in pain. They continued lancing through the monster for nearly a full minute, before Setzer collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily from the magical effort.

Terra finished the creature off with a well placed lightning bolt of her own.

Daryl realized at some point her jaw had dropped, and she closed her mouth with an audible click. Unable to help herself, stubbornly insisting to herself that it didn’t mean anything beyond the concern she’d show any of this group of friends, she knelt down next to Setzer to check on him.

He coughed, still trying to catch his breath, clearly out of metaphysical shape as well as physical, but managed the ghost of a grin as he looked at his rival, his friend. “Where the fuck did you learn to call lightning?”

“What were those rainbows you summoned?” she retorted, snatching back the hand that had risen to almost-not-quite stroke back an errant lock of his pale hair.

Setzer laughed. “Seems we’ve both learned some new tricks, eh?”

Daryl smirked. Cupping the Maduin magicite in one palm, she held it towards Setzer, the cord holding it around her neck stretching taut as she tried to give him a good look. “It’s called magicite. Terra gave it to me so I could learn magic. This rock is somehow what’s left of her father.”

“Oh, Maduin. Right. I remember, we had several magicite we were using to learn magic before we faced Kefka.” Setzer mused. He showed off a glinting green stone he’d been carrying in his pocket. “I have no idea what Esper this used to be, but I won it in a card game, and it must have been the patron Esper of gambling, because it seems to function as a sort of magic slot machine,” he tried to explain. “The effects are totally random, anything from a light Cure spell, to summoning Bahamut himself.”

“How very fitting,” Daryl admitted. She stood and put her hands on her hips, tipping her head back to look up at the Falcon. “So. Anyone have any bright ideas on how to get the dragon off my ship? For that matter, how to get the ship out of the tomb?”

Silence was the reply she received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've shuffled the locations of some of the Eight Dragons a bit. This was the Storm Dragon, typically found at Mt. Zozo. I just thought it would be hilarious, to be honest, for a dragon to be living on the ship. I didn't want to write the descent into the tomb as a dungeon crawl full of zombies and puzzles to solve, so I figured if I tossed in a battle at the end, it would all even out. Did it? I don't know, you tell me.


	19. Chapter 19

“I don’t know how we’ll get the Falcon to the surface,” Terra admitted. “But I might be able to help with the dragon.” She walked closer to the Falcon, head bowed as if in prayer, eyes falling shut as she reached for her trance state. She felt the change come over her, like a fire over her entire skin, but instead of burning, it felt wonderful. It always made her feel safe, and made her think that must have been how it felt to be cradled in her mother’s arms, though Madeline died when Terra had still been an infant, another victim of Gestahl’s greed.

Eyes like living flame lifted to look at the corpse on the deck of the Falcon, and the white-pink-burning humanoid lifted her hands and chanted to focus her energy, before whispering one word: “ _Banish_!” as she pointed at the dragon’s corpse. A black void appeared around the dead creature, drawing inward on itself, swallowing the beast as it disappeared into nothingness.

Terra nodded in satisfaction, hair flailing around her face with far more force than the motion should have caused. Everything was so much more dramatic, energetic, in this form. It caused her to smile with wonder each time she transformed, and nearly weep with the loss each time she reverted to her more mundane aspect.

She cocked her head to one side, staring up at the airship in consideration. Could she really…. was she strong enough?”

“Celes,” she called out, her voice both harsh and sibilant, echoing in the large cavern.

The one time Imperial General walked over to the half-Esper’s side, evincing no fear at her friend’s currently fearsome guise, having become quite used to Terra in this state even before their trek through the shattered world. “What is it, Terra?” she asked placidly, arms crossing across her chest as she reached her friend.

Terra pointed at the ship with one hand, and gestured directly overhead with the other, movements graceful, yet sharp. “Teleport?” She continued to speak in one word sentences, speech sometimes more difficult for her when in her Esper form.

Celes felt her eyes grow wide with a mixture of wonder, fear, and excitement at what Terra suggested. She knew her friend was phenomenally powerful with her magic, and that strength was amplified dramatically when she transformed, but… _to teleport an entire airship_?

“Do you think you can do it?” Celes asked.

Terra reached out to grasp Celes’s hand, tugging on it so her arms uncrossed. “Help,” she said, eloquent in her succinctness, holding on to Celes’s hand.

Celes nodded, and had an idea. “Hey, Daryl. Come here,” she beckoned the pilot with her free hand. When Daryl drew closer, Celes explained the plan, knowing if she had inferred incorrectly, Terra would speak up. “Terra thinks she can teleport the Falcon up to the surface. She’s… pretty damn powerful in this state.”

Daryl blinked, opened her mouth, and shut it again. She did that a couple times, and Celes was proud that she didn’t chuckle at seeing the woman resemble nothing more than one of the fish she was so adept at catching. “Seriously?” she finally asked.

“Yesss,” Terra answered for herself, the hiss of her voice akin to the sizzle of flames catching hold of kindling.

Celes nodded. “She did, however, ask for my help, and I thought you could help, as well. It would be good for your magical education.” Celes smiled and held out her free hand. “Here. Take my hand.”

Daryl did so, a bit uncertainly. “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing, really,” Celes explained. “Terra’s going to draw upon our magical energy as well as her own. It will give her a greater pool of strength with which to cast the Teleport spell.”

“So… we just hold hands and think magical thoughts, and she does the heavy lifting?” Daryl arched a brow.

“Basically, yes,” Celes affirmed. “Take Terra’s hand with your other one, breathe and center yourself as we’ve taught you, and adopt a steady stance. This could be quite draining.”

 

_Well that was a fucking understatement_ , Daryl thought as she woke up from what must have been a faint. Looking around from where she laid on the ground, her head cradled in a now-human Terra’s lap, she did not see the Falcon.

The spell worked.

It _worked_.

She was going to fly again.

With a groan, Daryl gingerly reached up a hand to massage her aching head. “Help me sit up?” she asked Terra, who smiled in that way of hers that always made you feel warm and protected, and did as requested. 

“Is that a normal reaction, or am I still too much a baby mage to handle something like that?” Daryl asked.

“Not unexpected,” Celes answered, as she walked over to join the other two women. She rested a hand on Daryl’s head briefly as she cast Cure. “And not a reflection of your abilities, or lack thereof. Terra drew an enormous amount of power.” The blonde grinned ruefully. “While I did not pass out, I did get quite dizzy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Terra apologized to them both, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to take in so much. I just wanted to make sure it worked.”

Daryl laughed. “You don’t owe any apologies, Terra,” she said, dark eyes sparkling with barely restrained glee as she managed to push, a bit wobbly, to her feet. “You freed my Falcon!” She huffed out an impatient breath, hands fisting on her hips as she looked around at everyone. “Well, what the fuck are we doing just standing around? Let’s get out of this crypt and get airborne!”

 

The group made haste up the ridiculously long staircase, and emerged out onto the plains to find that while they battled the dragon, the sun had set.

Daryl tried not to feel too disappointed. It would be near impossible to do the maintenance the Falcon certainly needed after a decade of slumber in the dark. 

“I suppose there’s nothing for it but to go back to the castle for the night,” Edgar suggested.

Most of the group nodded assent. Daryl, however, shook her head.

“I’m not leaving the Falcon,” she informed the machinist. “Who knows what else could decide to sleep on the deck overnight?” She scowled, her weight shifting from one foot to the other as she stared down her friends. “I’m staying right here.”

“Me too,” Setzer stepped up beside her, shooting her a sidelong look of solidarity. “We need to get started early on repairs. This way we won’t waste daylight.”

Edgar sighed but gave up. “Then, I suppose I will be staying as well,” he said. “You two could use my help with the repairs.” His attempt at a casual tone wasn’t fooling anyone. They all knew the mechanically inclined monarch was itching to get his hands dirty.

“I’ll stay, too,” Terra offered. “If another monster does come, I could help.” That was totally her motivation, not a desire to stay close to the handsome King of Figaro.

Celes shook her head. “Okay, yeah, that does make sense,” she conceded. “But, I’m going to sleep in a real bed tonight. I think I’ll go back to Kohlingen, see if I can gather any more intel in the morning.”

Sabin stretched. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “None of us should be wandering alone.” He grinned. “They had a really good breakfast spread at that Inn!” he enthused.

Thus decided, the two golden-haired warriors strode off in the general direction of Kohlingen, and the other four boarded the Falcon. 

Edgar pulled Terra aside, murmuring, “Give them this moment.” The king and the mage stood near the boarding ladder, quietly chatting as they watched and waited.

Setzer seemed to also sense that Daryl needed time, but he desperately wanted to share this moment with her. He settled on walking a few paces behind her, violet eyes keen to catch her slightest change in facial expression as she wandered the deck.

Daryl was in heaven. She almost believed she had finally died, and this was the afterlife, so farfetched was the notion that she was aboard the ship that had crashed so long ago. And it was _beautiful_. 

She noticed some differences, no doubt from Setzer’s inability to not try and improve as he repaired. But she saw nothing she took issue with. Setzer had clearly used all of his mechanical skills and fanciful artistry in the restoration of the craft. 

Daryl allowed her fingertips to graze along the rails as she walked the deck in a slow circuit, taking in everything, eyes constantly in motion. She heard herself giggle when she found the falcon in flight carved at the prow. Her feet finally brought her to the wheel and she stopped, both hands grasping it firmly, a heavy, shuddering sigh escaping her control.

Yes. _This_ was where she was meant to be. This was _who_ she was meant to be.

She was meant to _soar_.

 

Standing back a respectful distance, but never too far, Setzer watched Daryl re-familiarize herself with the refurbished Falcon. He couldn’t help but think her beautiful, the moonlight highlighting her honey-brown hair and adding an extra gleam to her joy-filled eyes. He watched her gradually relax as she walked around the length of the deck, the way she trailed her hand over the railing almost a caress, her lips curved in an unconscious smile of pure, unadulterated happiness.

He had never thought her more magnificent than when she took the wheel, her stance braced as if to hold steady amidst high winds, her eyes looking off into a horizon full of stars, and adventure.

Setzer couldn’t take it any longer. He walked over to stand beside her, and said, “So. Does she pass muster?”

Daryl tore her eyes away from whatever she had been seeing with her mind’s eye, and looked at him, still smiling. “She’s amazing.” Releasing her grip on the wheel with one hand, she reached out and squeezed one of his hands. “ _Thank you_ ,” she whispered.

There was such weight in those words, it was obvious she wasn’t only speaking of the restoration of the Falcon.

“ _Always_ ,” he replied, reaching out to set her hand back on the wheel where it belonged, and wrapping one arm around her waist, resting his cheek against the crown of her head.

They looked out into that unseen horizon together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't read parts of this chapter without tearing up. 
> 
> Song recommendation Distant Worlds II: Zanarkand https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3eDcInFHwE  
> you know, in case you weren't crying hard enough already (okay by 'you' I mean 'me', because the song on its own is enough to move me to tears)


	20. Chapter 20

“I thought we’d just wander around town, talk to the villagers, see what we could learn,” Celes said in between sips of coffee.

Sabin nodded, his mouth too full of breakfast to respond for a moment. “Sounds good,” he agreed, before resuming his meal.

Celes shook her head with a small grin, amused at the monk’s overly enthusiastic enjoyment of a plate of eggs and toast. Knowing a man of his size and musculature needed the protein, she pushed what was left of her omelet over to his side of the table and was rewarded by a huge sunny smile that lit up his sapphire eyes brightly.

_Down girl_ , she chastised herself, feeling a momentary pang of guilt at noticing how handsome the younger Figaro brother looked this morning. This wasn’t the man who’s smile she was supposed to notice, after all. Oh, well. Despite all ice queen rumors to the contrary, she was, in fact, only human.

When they - or more accurately _he_ \- had finished breakfast, the two headed out to see what they could learn in the town. They split up, since the threat of a monster attack in the middle of daytime in a crowded village was low. Celes was to take the residential part of town, while Sabin would check in again with the local merchants, and they would meet at the pub around lunch time to compare notes and feed the bottomless pit which was the martial artist.

Celes headed down the street, pausing to speak with everyone she encountered, not learning much more than that people were sick of the relentless heat that refused to give way to true winter, and that people were exhausted from living in constant fear of the self styled God of Magic, Kefka, and his horrific Light of Judgement.

As she approached a particularly memorable house, her footfalls slowed a bit and her facial expression darkened. Twice in one morning now she had been reminded of Locke - of course _this_ house would remind her of the treasure hunter.

This house, holding the stasis-preserved corpse of his dead love, Rachel.

Squaring her shoulders, she decided to rip the bandage off, and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, the mad old scientist who lived there, watching over the body of Locke’s lover, answered the door.

“Eh? You again?” He squinted at Celes. “So you survived the end of the world, did you?” he cackled, stepping aside for her to walk inside. “Well so did she! Did my job well, I did,” he boasted, sounding like a child proud of an art project. 

Celes looked around the small house. It looked exactly the same. While she was glad the old man had survived, as she didn’t wish harm on any innocent citizens of the world, there was a small part of her that she wasn’t proud of that wished this house - and the body it guarded - had been destroyed in the cataclysm.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” the old man’s feeble voice interrupted her train of thought. “Come see for yourself!” With that, he walked down the stairs, leaving Celes little choice but to follow.

She did so a bit reluctantly, but decided that compared to everything else she’d faced as a warrior, surely the preserved corpse of one woman wasn’t so bad.

Reaching the basement she stopped, standing next to the old man a couple paces away from the bed the body rest upon. It was eerie how alive Rachel still looked. Despite having been dead for years, she looked nothing more than like a woman asleep, as if she’d wake up if Celes reached out and shook her shoulders.

“You missed your friend by about a month,” the scientist grumbled. “You young people, coming and going as you please. Can’t you coordinate and come at the same time? Visitors give me a headache!” he complained cantankerously. 

Celes blinked and turned to stare at him, storm gray eyes narrowing. “Which friend might that be?”

“The one that has me keeping _her_ here!” he said, his tone sounding like he was explaining that the sky was blue. “Stopped by to see if she made it through the end of the world,” he gruffly elaborated. “Then headed back off to try and find that treasure again.”

“Treasure,” Celes repeatedly a bit woodenly, her thoughts racing to process all this information. Locke was alive! He survived!

And still he sought to revive his lost lady love.

Celes felt her heart break. Her chest actually hurt, as if her heart literally was injured. 

Locke was still in love with Rachel. Nothing had changed. 

Despite their flirtations and stolen kisses, he was still devoted to his mission to find a way to save the dead woman. 

While Celes and her other friends were out trying to find their lost allies and save the world, Locke was spending his time trying to get his girlfriend back.

Celes felt her sadness give way to anger. _How selfish_ , she thought. _There are more important things to worry about now._

But she felt ashamed for her thoughts a moment later. Surely if the end of the world had taught her one thing, it was that life was too fleeting to waste a moment of happiness. Of course he would focus his efforts on where his heart lie, for who knew how long this broken world would survive?

She turned and smiled at the old man. “Thank you for your time,” she said politely, inclining her head.

“Sure, sure,” he said agreeably enough, leading her back to the stair case. “I told him, you find the Phoenix, nothing else will do!”

“Phoenix?” Celes asked. She knew, of course, about the restorative Phoenix Down, magical feathers that could draw someone back from the brink of death. But surely that wouldn’t work on someone who had been dead for so long?

“Yes, the Esper, Phoenix,” the old man said irritably. “That’s the only thing that has a chance at waking her. I told him!”

“I see,” Celes mused. “But, the land of the Espers was destroyed.”

“Phoenix was already dead!” he said furtively, glancing around as if to make sure nobody was there to overhear them. “But Phoenix can be reborn, she can!”

Celes looked at him silently, hoping he had something more useful to add. And he did.

“Heard tell she was killed at the star shaped mountains. Told that thief to look for her there!”

In spite of her conflicted emotions, Celes felt a spurt of happiness at having some actual clues to go on. She thanked the old man for his help again and allowed him to usher her out of his house, though she winced a bit at how hard he slammed the door once she was outside.

The rest of Celes’s walk about town turned up nothing useful. Just more complaints about the unseasonably warm weather, and the insane sorcerer holding the world hostage. She doggedly talked to every single person she could find, even the children. But eventually, she had to admit defeat. The only useful information she had gotten was that about Locke’s survival and the existence and presumed location of the Phoenix magicite, and she wasn’t even sure how useful that would be if he was so single-mindedly focused on Rachel’s restoration.

Noting the height of the sun, she decided to head to the pub to wait for Sabin. Maybe he had found out something more helpful to their cause. Arriving at the pub before her friend, she took the liberty of ordering them both lunch, and staked out a table in the corner, sitting with a mug of hot cider to warm her fingers as she waited for her friend.

Sabin arrived right as the waiter dropped off their food. Celes stifled a chuckle at the coincidence. “Any luck?” she asked him in greeting.

“Nah,” he said, dropped down into the chair across from her. “Lunch looks great!” he added by way of thanks before digging in. 

She rolled her eyes and began to pick at her meal as she filled him in on everything the old man had told her.

Sabin got understandably pleased to hear that another of their friends had survived. “We gotta go find him!” he exclaimed. 

“If he even wants to be found.” Celes regretted the words as soon as she muttered them. Goddesses, she was a general, not some love-starved twit! 

Sabin looked at her incredulously. “Okay, here, you need this more than I do.” He handed her the bread basket that had come with their lunches. “Next time don’t skip your breakfast,” he scolded. “You get cranky when you’re hungry.”

Saying nothing, Celes thought it prudent to let Sabin think as he did, though she was appreciative of his solicitude. 

“I wonder how the others are doing with the Falcon?” she mused allowed in between bites.

“I’m sure they’re already done,” Sabin replied. “Ship looked good to me last night, how much work could it need?”

 

Daryl had a headache.

She had expected there would be work to be done to get the Falcon air-worthy, after it had been sitting collecting dust for so long. 

But, gods, she hadn’t expected it to need _this_ much work.

And Edgar, bless his heart, wasn’t helping, the man resembling nothing so much as an over-eager child insisting that he could dress himself when he would miss at least half the shirt buttons.

Setzer, at least, she could count on. To be fair, the gambler had more practical skills than she did these days. Despite his year long bender, he had worked on the Blackjack far more recently than she had done anything more challenging than cobbling together a raft to get herself back to the mainland with Celes those scant months ago.

“Don’t touch that!” she heard Setzer bark at the king, and she turned with a clatter of dropped tools to see what the fuck the blonde was getting into now.

With a stroke of genius, Daryl looked across the room where Terra stood, arms tensely crossed, watching the three conduct repairs. “Terra? Uh, maybe you could go make some lunch? I’m _starving_.” The exaggerated look she made towards the machinist left no doubt as to her true motivation.

“Of course,” Terra said agreeably, pushing away from the wall. “Come help me, Edgar?” she asked a bit shyly, smiling at him entreatingly.

Edgar seemed momentarily torn between his desire to keep playing with his toys, and his chivalrous need to offer the assisted aide. His sense of duty won out, and he stood, brushing ineffectually at the dirt and oil stains on his pants from kneeling on the deck. “Of course, Terra. Lead on.”

After the two walked out of the engine room Daryl let loose with a melodramatic sigh. “I know he means well, but, _argh_!” she finished her sentence at a loss for words.

“He’s just excited,” Setzer chided her lightly, though he did offer a commiserating grin, meeting her eyes for a moment before turning back to his work. 

“I know, I know,” she grumbled, refocusing her attention on the task at hand. Despite the king’s sometimes unhelpful enthusiasm, they had actually made pretty good headway. She expected they would be nearly finished by the time Terra and Edgar had cobbled together something to eat.

They worked together as fluidly as if the years apart hadn’t happened, Setzer wordlessly offering a tool before Daryl even knew she needed it, Daryl there to offer a second set of hands before Setzer could open his mouth to ask for her assistance. The silence was comfortable, broken only by the sounds of their work.

Daryl settled back cross-legged, wiping the back of one hand across her sweaty brow, before looking at Setzer. “I think… I think she’s ready.”

He looked around the engine room a moment with keen eyes, the nodded. “We’ll do a final pre-flight check after lunch,” he suggested. “But I think you’re right.”

“Oh, you sweet talker, say it again,” she gibed, elbowing him in the ribs as she walked past to go find their friends and their lunch. She heard him chuckle as he followed her to the upper deck where they found Terra and Edgar laying out a picnic.

“There wasn’t really room for all of us in the galley,” Terra explained apologetically. “Plus this way we can enjoy the fresh air… such as it is.”

Daryl looked up at the scarred sky a moment, wishing it was vibrant blue instead of distorted orange, then looked at Terra with a smile. “I didn’t design the Falcon with many creature comforts in mind, or with the foreknowledge that someday I’d have more than one friend. This is perfect.”

The four ate, chatting about ideas for where to go next, what to do next, whatever topics sprang to mind.

Daryl noticed how often Terra’s green gaze went to the king, and how often Edgar stole glances at the half-Esper, and she smiled to herself. 

It was nice to see love bloom amidst the ashes of the world.

She very deliberately did not look at Setzer. She wasn’t entirely sure how to handle her own feelings, and decided she needed to focus on getting the Falcon in the air. Her fucked up emotions could get sorted out later. Flying always helped her to focus, anyway. 

“Hey!” Sabin’s voice called out as his head appeared over the rail. He clambered onto the deck, then turned to offer Celes a hand up the last few steps. The two walked over and joined their friends.

“Any luck?” Daryl asked.

Celes nodded, and filled in the rest of the group as they finished their lunches.

Edgar was the most excited, as Locke was his oldest friend. “Is the ship ready?” he demanded of the pilots. “We gotta go help him!”

“We need time for a final check over the ship,” Setzer said. 

“Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours,” Daryl added.

“Okay,” Edgar nodded. “Sabin, Celes, Terra, and I will go back to Figaro to restock provisions, while you two finish up here,” he decided. “We’ll regroup later this evening and strategize on how to find this star shaped mountain.”

No one voiced any objections, so in short order, the four departed on their task, and Daryl and Setzer returned to theirs, splitting up to expedite matters. 

Eventually, the two mechanics touched base in the engine room, having saved that most important task for last. They worked in tandem to check, and re-check, all the inner workings of the heart of the Falcon, but eventually had to admit everything looked perfect.

“I think she’s ready as she’ll ever be,” Setzer said, smiling at Daryl.

“Yes,” Daryl agreed decisively. “She is.”

Then she kissed him.


	21. Chapter 21

Setzer stood hunched at the prow of the Falcon, eyeing the carved bird balefully. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled in an attempt at humor, though there was no one around to impress. From the height of the moon, it had to be around two in the morning, and the rest of his friends were sleeping in tents pitched near the Falcon, except for Daryl who slept in her old quarters. Edgar, Celes, Terra, and Sabin had returned at dusk, and the party had stayed up until the moon was high overhead planning the next day’s events.

Now he desperately needed sleep, wanting to be fully awake and recharged for the maiden voyage of the refurbished Falcon, but he couldn’t fucking sleep because he was out of Remedy, the mages were all too busy sleeping to cast a Cure, and he had poisoned his body for so long with high doses of alcohol that he was shaking too hard with withdrawal pangs to sleep.

If he was stuck being awake, he may as well try and think of more pleasant things than the way his stomach was alternately aching and heaving. Like that unexpected kiss earlier…

His only regret was that their friends had returned before the kiss could turn into anything else, though it was probably best not to rush matters.

Oh hell, the world had fallen down around them, he was all for rushing matters. 

He had lost Daryl once. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? This was _exactly_ the time to be hasty.

Well, perhaps not this exact moment, when he could barely stand without clinging to the polished wooden beams lining the Falcon’s upper deck. Oh gods, how many hours until a mage would wake?

“Setzer…?” he heard his name tentatively spoken from behind him. A moment later, he felt gentle hands turn him around, and he came face to face with his beloved.

“Daryl,” he rasped in greeting. “Can’t sleep?” he asked between gritted teeth, trying not to show how miserable he was feeling.

“Nightmares,” she said succinctly. “This one was a dream of the simple village life I lived. It’s a good thing I had amnesia, or I’d’ve been even more bored than my simple village woman persona was by all the farming and inactivity.”

“That’s… a nightmare?” he asked a bit confused. To him, nightmares were memories of the Blackjack coming apart beneath his feet. Of waiting on a hill for Daryl to come.

“It is a nightmare because the fact that I was not myself for _ten entire years_ is fucking terrifying,” Daryl explained, clearly attempting to sound calm, and failing.

The pain that shot through the man at those words had nothing to do with his body trying to detox, and everything to do with the sense of failure he still felt over having abandoned her to that fate. “Sorry,” he breathed the word between clenched teeth.

“You’ve apologized enough,” she waved a hand in dismissal, and then looked at him closely. “Setzer, what the fuck is wrong? You’re shaking.” She helped him lower to be sitting, back resting against the solid support provided by the Falcon’s bulwark.

“Out of Remedies,” he managed to stammer, before wrapping his arms around his knees, drawing them close to his chest. Maybe if he wrapped himself up tightly enough, the shaking would stop, or at least grow easier to bear until he could get relief.

“I’ll go wake Terra or Celes to Cure you. They haven’t taught me any fucking healing magic yet, said it’s too dangerous for a novice,” she said, cursing vociferously and inventively at that lack.

“No,” he barked. “Please. They need sleep”

“ _You_ need sleep,” she argued.

“My… magicite,” he pleaded, realizing maybe he’d get lucky and get the Cure spell.

Of course, maybe he’d be unlucky and get the Mega Flare.

“Nnggh,” he moaned, slumping back bonelessly.

He felt Daryl lay a hand against his forehead and heard her hiss in displeasure. “You’re burning up. I’m getting Terra. No more fucking arguments.”

A few minutes later, he heard several sets of footsteps move towards him. By the Triad, could they walk any louder? His head already pounded, and each footfall felt like it was driving a nail into his temple.

“Oh, Setzer,” he heard a compassionate voice that sounded on the verge of tears. Daryl had gotten Terra, then.

“You really should have told us it was this bad,” Celes sounded a bit irritable, though if he knew her at all, she was more angry at herself for what she would perceive as a personal oversight. “You have friends, you stubborn man, let us help you.”

Setzer felt four hands rest ever so gently on the crown of his head, then felt bathed in the hottest of sunlight for an instant, and then sweet relief.

He heard Daryl mutter a bit reproachfully, “You need to let me learn curative magic soon. Like, last month.”

Celes clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “We explained how dangerous it can be. You’ll learn it when it’s safe and not a moment sooner. Now, I’m going back to bed, and I suggest you all do the same." Setzer heard her walk off.

“I hope you can get some rest,” Terra said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Good night.” He heard her head to the ladder as well.

Setzer waited, but didn’t hear a third set of footsteps retreat. He cracked open an eye gingerly, waiting for the pain to resurface, and when it did not, he opened both eyes fully to regard Daryl, watching as she plopped down on the deck next to him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she announced.

“Good,” he whispered, feeling too drained to say much, but wanting to make sure she knew the company was more than welcome.

Despite the enervating fatigue consuming him, he couldn’t help but smile when he felt one of her calloused hands clasp his tightly.

“Next time speak up,” she demanded.

He nodded carefully, pleased when the gesture caused no pain or nausea.

“Tell me about it,” he asked.

“About what?” 

“The time in the village. I want to understand.” He tried to explain. “I want to know all of you. Even the you that wasn’t you. Hell, I just want to listen to your voice under the stars.”

“You’ve grown romantic in your old age,” she teased, but her words were not unkind, and were accompanied by an affectionate squeeze of the hand she had refused to relinquish.

Daryl heeded his request and talked at length about the village. It was so small it didn’t have a name, and most of the villagers farmed. Not for profit, but out of necessity. There were some craftsmen and craftswomen, but little by way of artisans, aside from some elderly folks who hadn’t the energy for more manual labors and instead turned their efforts to needlework, or carving, or other small artistic pursuits that added some much needed luxury to their little hamlet.

She told him about the way she and the other village women would gossip while doing laundry down at the river. Who was courting who, who had burned a roast, who had begun work on a new tapestry.

It was all so mundane. But Setzer couldn’t lie. He was thrilled to hear every last bit.

She may have been bored to tears, but, by the Warring Triad, she had been alive to be bored.

Daryl had reached the point in her tale where the world got blasted all to hell by Kefka’s insane delusion to disrupt the Statues. She described the incredibly jarring feelings of first feeling the world literally moving under her feet, and then getting the memories of her true self back all in a rush.

She told him in stark detail about conditions on the island.

About the suicides.

About caring for Celes.

About her growing wish to throw herself off that cliff, but how her sense of duty to the comatose woman who had become her closest friend had prevented it.

She talked about building the small but seaworthy ship that got herself and the Magitek Knight to the mainland, and talked about their months of wandering without seeing another living soul or any sign of civilization.

She told him about the night she and Celes had found comfort in each others’ bodies with the same candor that she described her daily fishing expeditions.

Daryl talked about weapons training and her first monster encounters. She talked about the children in Mobliz, and the terrifying, feral beauty which was her first experience seeing Terra in her Esper form. About her magical studies. Meeting Sabin. Then Edgar. 

She told him about how she felt walking into that pub in Kohlingen and seeing him slumped in that chair across from Celes. Daryl said that she nearly ran right back out of that pub, not wanting him to confirm all her darkest thoughts with a careless word.

Backtracking, she told him in great detail how her depression had told her that he had never really loved her, hadn’t looked for her, didn’t want her, didn’t care for her. How she had felt she was just a relic of his youth, forgotten as he lived his life. 

He had to interrupt her there.

“Never,” he said firmly, turning to face her, violet eyes intense. “ _Never_ forgotten. Not a single day went by that I didn’t think of you.”

“I know that now,” she whispered, dark eyes filled with unshed tears that he knew she would hate for anyone to see. He considerately ignored them as she spoke. “But what else was I to think? I woke up to find so much time had passed, the world had marched on, and I was left behind.” Daryl sighed. “I know now that you tried. And Setzer, please believe me. I’m not angry with you, not anymore. I probably would have done the exact same if our positions had been reversed, and I’d found the wreck of the Blackjack. But, I look around at this,” she waved her free hand in mid-air. “This fucked up shell of a world, and I get so angry at the wasted time. Who knows how long til Kefka destroys what’s left?” 

She laughed bitterly. “I know our friends are all ‘save the world’, but really, what chance do we stand?” She glared fiercely in the general direction of the madman’s deranged tower. “I woke up to discover I lost ten years, and I have no idea how many days I might have left.”

“Daryl,” he tried to interject, but her words continued in a flood, as if once she started the torrent she just couldn’t stop.

“I don’t want to die for real, Setzer. I don’t. I only just got my life back. My wings back. _You_ back.” The previously unshed tears started to fall, and she dropped his hand to press both of hers against her face, hiding her distraught features as she bowed forward over crossed legs, entire body heaving with the force of her sobs.

It occurred to Setzer as he stroked her hair, her back, murmured comforting words, that Daryl had probably not allowed herself to grieve at all in the time since she came back to herself. From the story she told, she’d been so busy just trying to survive, to selflessly help others, that she hadn’t had the luxury of grief.

If he could stop the world to give her the time she needed, he would.

Setzer couldn’t do that. But he could at least give her the rest of the night.

He wrapped his wiry arms around her and continued speaking soft words of reassurance, of love, fuck, he told bad jokes, he just kept talking until his voice grew hoarse,and then he talked some more. Even after she fell asleep in his arms, he continued to talk, just in case his words could help hold the nightmares at bay. He held her and talked until the sun rose, and when their friends started to board the airship in the morning, he glowered at them and shook his head. They took the hint and crept back off the ship, giving the pilots space.

Daryl awoke a few hours later and seemed startled at finding the sun halfway to its zenith. Stifling a yawn behind one hand, she twisted her head around to peer up at the man still holding her. “Setzer…?” she whispered.

“Daryl,” he answered, and gave her a soft, lingering kiss.

When they broke apart, it was with mutual regret, and a sense of duty.

Arising from the deck, they broke apart, Setzer going to summon their friends, and Daryl to the wheel.

Today they would fly.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I already cited it, but this one was all "Broken" again, if you want a song.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, wrong airship, but this is the music for this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rwCLc---8MU

“Preparing for lift-off!” Daryl bellowed. “Brace yourselves!” Her heart raced with anticipation as she fired up the engines. Her only regret at this moment was that Setzer had decided to go down to the engine room, wanting to be on hand just in case they had missed something and anything were to go wrong.

She knew they hadn’t. But maybe he just wanted to give her this moment.

She looked around the deck with a broad grin, looking at the backs of her friends’ heads, as they clustered at the prow, faces pointed into the soon-to-come wind.

The Falcon rose like the mythological Phoenix they were to chase that day.

Daryl couldn’t help it. She screamed in triumphant joy, twisting the throttle to max and gripping the wheel, steering the ship to the east. The rough plan was that they’d flyover in bands gradually moving southward. Her gawking friends were supposed to be watching for the vaguely described star shaped mountain formation. She and Setzer would take turns at the helm, and they would touch down each evening to sleep and do whatever maintenance the Falcon required to keep airworthy.

Daryl couldn’t stop laughing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so happy. She was positively fucking giddy to be airborne once more! Her friends seemed caught up in the same feeling. Terra had chosen to transform into her Esper guise, and she flew in fiery spirals alongside the Falcon, clearly reveling in her flight as much as Daryl was in the Falcon’s.

Catching Edgar in her peripheral vision, Daryl couldn’t help but smirk, seeing the king was far more focused on the half-Esper than looking for the mountain range. She wasn’t about to take him to task over it. Let everyone find joy where they may in this shattered world.

While Daryl gave most of her attention to manning the helm, she was pleased watching her friends, seeing Celes and Sabin spar a bit after Terra landed and reverted to human form, joining Edgar in scouting the land below.

Daryl’s eyes crinkled in a smile when she felt arms coil around her waist and she angled her head to nuzzle her cheek against that of the tall man holding her. “I wondered how long you’d last in the engine room. It’s not like you to miss all the action.”

“I was being cautious,” he replied. 

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the smirk in his tone. “Who are you, and what you have you done with my Setzer?” she laughed.

“Hey, we’re not 17 anymore. And, please, no more old man jokes,” he said in a mock-pained voice. Abruptly switching gears, she felt him nod, his scarred cheek moving against hers delightfully. “No sign of the mountains yet?”

“No,” she confirmed. “But, _look_! Look how happy they are even on a boring scouting mission. I think we all needed this flight.” Of course to Daryl, nothing made more sense than the simple truth that being in the sky was better than almost anything else. “Terra was flying alongside earlier and she just looked so amazingly at peace, for such a fierce being,” Daryl continued describing what Setzer had missed while he was below deck. Setzer, for his part, was content to stand with her at the helm, enjoying the press of her body against his, the wind in his hair, the knowledge that they soared once more. 

Daryl made a sound close to a purr low in her throat, leaning back against him more firmly. “Gods, I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re here for this.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he averred, pressing a kiss to the wind blown hair at the crown of her head.

With unshakable confidence, Daryl continued to steer the Falcon, the presence of her lover not a distraction but a wonderful addition to what was shaping up to be the best day she’d had in over a decade. She laughed again, the joyous sound carried away by the winds. If only she could stay in this moment forever, at flight, her friends happily occupied, in her lover’s embrace.

She knew, like all good things, this too would end.

She was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

Daryl decided to stop that train of thought before it left the fucking station. A bit recklessly, she turned and pressed her lips to the hollow of Setzer’s throat, humming against his skin. “Want a turn?” she offered.

Setzer needed a moment to remember words. “ _Gods_ , yes.”

They traded places, Setzer taking the wheel in his capable hands, and Daryl standing at his side, one arm slung comfortably around his narrow waist.

Her world had faded to just the two of them. She paid no more heed to their friends.

Stretching up on her toes, she whispered in his ear, so close that her lips caressed his earlobe with each syllable. “You look fucking hot piloting my ship, Gabbiani.”

Setzer groaned, the sound mostly eaten by the wind, but she heard enough to cause a delighted smirk to twist her lips. “Oh, you fucking wonderful woman!” He took a hand off the wheel to yank her close, crashing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss for a long moment, before responsibility dictated that he release her and keep both hands on the wheel.

The moment was broken by the intrusion of another voice.

“I don’t suppose I can try my hand at the wheel?” Edgar asked eagerly, practically bouncing on his toes in excitement. Daryl could see Terra, Celes, and Sabin still watching over the rails, searching the land below with keen eyes.

She felt her cheeks heat as she was reminded that they weren’t alone. _We have to fix that_ , she thought. They deserved it, after all these years, all this pain. Surely their friends would understand.

Daryl decided to answer Edgar’s question with another question. “Setzer, did you ever let Edgar fly the Blackjack?”

“I never let _anyone_ fly the Blackjack except you,” he scoffed.

“There’s your answer, Your Majesty,” she said irreverently. “Maybe another time.” She saw how disappointed he looked, so she offered a suggestion. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Terra? She looks tired from all that flying.”

He perked up. “Maybe she needs a refreshment, or to go sit down,” the machinist mused. “If you’ll excuse me?” He was already walking off before they could respond.

The two pilots laughed again, both at the king’s eagerness, and a continued joy at the sheer exuberance of flying. There was truly nothing like it!

Hours passed, and the party saw no hint of the star shaped mountain range the old man had described to Celes. Daryl made the decision to land the ship for the night on a small, triangular shaped island, bringing the Falcon down with deft expertise between a small mountain and a forest, in a small verdant meadow. Well, as verdant as any meadow was in this ruined world, which was to say the grass was more yellow than green, but some wildflowers fought to poke through the tough ground and added some much needed color to an otherwise dismal setting.

“Well, I guess we can sleep on deck?” Celes suggested. “Didn’t look like any towns on this little island.” She was uncomfortably reminded of the island she had awoken on six months ago.

Daryl shook her head. “Pitch your tents again. I have work to do, and don’t need to be stepping over sleeping bodies.” She was firm, but not unkind.

“I’ll stay and help,” Setzer offered.

“Yeah, I bet you’ll help plenty,” Edgar muttered, just barely within the gambler’s earshot. The king was rewarded with a very flat stare.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Terra said agreeably. The half-Esper did pause a moment, cupping Setzer’s scarred cheek in her palm as she cast a Cure spell, hoping he would be able to sleep well that night, without any further withdrawal symptoms.

After the four had disembarked, Daryl turned to look at Setzer.

He met her stare with his own.

As one, they lunged for each other, mouths crashing together in a kiss more teeth than lips, hands fisting in windswept hair as they ground their bodies together.

“I thought they’d never fucking leave,” Daryl moaned as his teeth nibbled down her neck.

“I know,” he replied, the sound muffled as he pressed his lips to her collarbone. “Your quarters?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Here. Under the stars.”

Setzer tossed his voluminous coat down in the shadow of the helm and they lowered to it as one, not releasing each other for an instant.

They were a mess of tangled hair and limbs. Clothes were hastily torn away, neither wanting to wait a moment longer than absolutely necessary. 

Despite the fact that it had been so long, some things never changed. They still knew exactly where to touch, to scratch, to bite, to lick, to drive the other insane.

The moon rose high overhead as they moved together, counting hours that neither was aware were passing.

Daryl straddled Setzer’s hips, looking down at him, pupils blown with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.

“Now?” she breathed, rocking back to slide her core over him, the wet heat of her causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

“ _Now_.” He exhaled raggedly as he felt her enfold him in her warmth.

Daryl didn’t know how it could feel like forever and an instant at the same time. But all too soon it was over, and she was laying on top of him, drenched in sweat, trying to catch her breath.

Setzer reached up to tenderly brush her snarled hair away from her face. Words failed the normally loquacious man, and he was content to simply wrap his arms around her, savoring the moment as they both came back to themselves.

This had been more than a frantic coupling on the deck of an airship. This had been a homecoming. A renewal. Something sacred and joyful, not trite or tawdry.

This was love.

Now, more than ever, there was nothing more important, nothing of greater value.

Love would win the day. Good would defeat evil.

It all seemed so simple and self-evident under the light of the stars and moon, entwined together so closely Daryl couldn’t tell where she ended and her lover began.

She felt him pull their discarded clothing over them like a blanket and offered him a silent, sleepy smile, then drifted off for the first nightmare free sleep she had enjoyed since she had found herself.


	23. Chapter 23

Edgar walked out of his tent at daybreak, stretching as he moved towards the campfire that had burned out to dead coals overnight. Kneeling down near the ring of stones, he made short work of starting a new fire, and decided to see what sort of breakfast he could pull together from the provisions they never traveled without. Even for a simple one night camp out, the Returners had learned the value of always being prepared.

Soon he had chopped onions, garlic, and potatoes sizzling in butter over the flames. Edgar set some of their ever present dried fish on one of the stones to gradually warm up without over cooking. 

The delicious smells served to rouse the rest of the party, and he was soon joined at the fire. Celes had the foresight to bring the kettle and press, and in short order there was coffee all around.

“Gonna take a run while the food cooks,” Sabin said, jumping to his feet. 

Edgar shook his head. The younger Figaro had always been a morning person. “Don’t go far,” he advised, before turning his attention back to his cooking.

“Did everyone sleep well?” Terra asked in a voice still blurred with fatigue.

“I’ve grown soft,” Celes admitted. “I miss having a real mattress. Pity the living quarters on the Falcon aren’t larger.” She sipped gratefully at her coffee. “Hopefully tonight we can stay at an inn instead.”

“Fingers crossed,” Edgar quipped as he stirred the veggies.

To the north, they heard a loud howl, followed by Sabin’s voice shouting an expletive.

Dropping mugs heedlessly, the three sprinted towards the sounds of battle. Celes readied her blade, Edgar his crossbow, and Terra already had flames sparking at her fingertips.

The monk was facing off against something that resembled a massive, purple worm. It’s mouth was a large circle lined with teeth the size and apparent sharpness of long-swords. As they drew near, they heard the creature emit another loud roar, followed by the sound of a huge inhalation.

As they watched in horror, Sabin was caught up by the force of the monster’s breath, and literally sucked inside the beast.

“SABIN!” Edgar shouted, heedlessly running at the monster with his auto-crossbow firing off multiple rounds with every step. The king’s face was tight with anger, but his eyes flickered with fear. 

“Oh, _shit_!” Celes cursed with feeling as she and Terra saw the same fate befall the machinist. The golden-haired woman looked sidelong at Terra. “Got any ideas?”

Terra tilted her head as she quickly considered. “It doesn’t look like it’s eating. Just breathing.” Her nerves showed in the way she bit her lip, but her eyes were as hard as the emeralds their color resembled when she said, “Let it take us, too.” 

And so they did.

Celes groaned as she sat up, having hit the floor quite forcefully.

Wait. Floor?

She stood, looking around with confusion widening her gray eyes.

They seemed to be in a cave system of some sort. She could see paths spiraling off every which way, and her well-trained ears could hear the faint chittering of monsters down some of those tunnels.

When Celes looked at her friends, she saw Edgar and Sabin looked as bewildered as she felt. Despite the men’s difference in garb and style, they wore identical expressions as they surveyed the area. Only Terra seemed to be a bit less perplexed by what had occurred.

“That creature must have somehow been a portal,” the half-Esper mused. “Maybe this is some weird by-product of the way Kefka disturbed the magical balance of the world when he moved the Statues out of alignment,” was her theory. “At any rate, we definitely aren’t inside the belly of the beast.” She smiled, and her eyes shone with adventure. “This’ll be like old times. Let’s explore!”

 

Meanwhile, back on the Falcon, Daryl and Setzer had enjoyed a surprisingly undisturbed, leisurely breakfast, and then went over the Falcon’s engines to make sure everything was still shipshape after the marathon flight of the previous day. They were rather caught up in their work, but eventually Setzer noticed the way the sun was slanting so high overhead through the port holes, and he asked the question: “Where is everybody?”

Daryl sighed. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that this was just them giving us space? More likely, it’s another dragon or something.”

Setzer took the time to replace the tools he was using where they belonged, but then headed to the stairs. “We better go find them.”

Several hours later, they ended up back on the deck of the Falcon, concerned and frustrated.

“Where the fuck could have they gone?” Daryl asked. The pilots had found their friends’ campsite, tents still set up around the smoking remains of a fire, a very burned clump of what may have been breakfast suspended on a pan over the cooling embers. They had even lucked out and been able to follow a trail of grass smashed by feet off to the north. But when the trail led them to nothing other than the huge bulk of a slumbering monster that they carefully stayed away from, the two had continued to search the small island, until their circuitous path led them back to where they had started.

“Damned if I know,” Setzer muttered.

“Should we launch? See what we can see from a higher perspective?” Daryl’s questions were asked in an uncertain tone. This was definitely outside of her areas of expertise.

“Let’s give them a couple more hours,” Setzer decided, after thinking it over a a few minutes. “Maybe we just missed them, they could have been circling ‘round the other way the entire time we searched.” He sighed, face painted with worry for his friends. “If they don’t turn up, then yes, we take to the skies.” 

“All right,” Daryl agreed. “Let’s tear down their campsite and stow the gear while we wait.”

With a nod, Setzer followed her down the ladder, and they made short work of doing just that. With the task complete, and the Falcon’s maintenance already tended to, there was nothing left to do but wait.

 

The foursome was looking a bit more worse for wear than they had a few hours ago.

The group had followed several winding paths, fought a few battles, avoided a rockfall, and even picked up some treasure. What they hadn’t found was a way out of the caves, and they were running out of unexplored terrain to traverse.

Sabin heaved a sigh, looking around with a growing frustration. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “There has to be a way out around here somewhere.”

“There has to be a way out around here somewhere,” a voice seemed to echo him, agreeing with him, from the far side of the stone chamber they had chosen as a rest point.

The monk stepped cautiously towards the direction from which the mysterious voice had sounded, and as the party watched, an extremely strange looking individual walked towards Sabin, seeming to move in perfect step with the marital artist. When Sabin stopped, so did the stranger.

The newcomer wore an odd set of robes in shades of crimson, yellow, and green. They had a cowl over their head, revealing only their eyes, which sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. After sweeping a somewhat theatrical bow, the person - for the timbre of the voice did nothing to confirm the stranger’s gender, which was also totally hidden by their outlandish garb - spoke in a melodious voice that could be a high tenor or low alto.

“I am Gogo, master of mimicry,” they declaimed. “It has been a long, long time since anyone has visited me here.” They sighed regretfully. “I have been idle for far too many years… perhaps I ought to mimic you.” Their eyes darted over each party member in turn before returning to Sabin, who still stood in front of them. 

“Tell me,” the mimic entreated the monk. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, this giant worm ate us, and—-” Sabin was cut off.

“No,” the stranger interrupted. “I assumed you had gotten here via the usual route, and were seeking a way out. But what are you _doing_ here, in our world? With your lives?” they pried.

With a shrug of his muscled shoulders, Sabin went on to explain that they were searching the world for their lost companions, with an end goal of taking down Kefka and restoring peace to the land.

“I see,” Gogo murmured. “So, you seek to save the world.” They laughed abruptly, the sound ringing in the enclosed cavern. “Then, I guess that means that I shall save the world as well. Lead on! I will copy your every move.”

“Uh…” Sabin was at a loss for words, and he glanced to the others.

His brother walked forward smoothly, offering Gogo a hand to shake. The mime, naturally, mirrored the gesture, and shook hands with the king in a friendly manner. 

“I am Edgar, King of Figaro,” Edgar said. Gesturing at each in turn, he offered “This is my brother, Sabin, a martial arts master. The Magitek Knight, Celes, formerly a General of the Empire. And the Lady Terra, a powerful sorceress.”

Gogo listened as Edgar spoke, looking at each person as they were introduced. The mimic seemed to grow noticeably excited. “Oh, what a treasure trove!” they raved. “This will be a challenge indeed!”

“Do you want to help us, or play copycat games?” Celes asked a bit acerbically. 

“Both,” Gogo responded honestly. “If you’ll have me.”

Sabin stepped away to join his friends and they huddled together, speaking softly enough that Gogo wasn’t able to pick up on their words from across the chamber.

“What d’ya think?” Sabin asked. “I mean, if they can actually mimic fighting well enough to take on monsters, could be a help.”

“We were planning to try and recruit more people to our cause,” Terra reminded the group.

“While he, or she, seems a bit… eccentric,” Edgar said diplomatically. “I suppose we truly can use all the help we can get.” He nodded. “Especially if they know the way out of here.”

Celes just shook her head. “Fine. Let’s give them the chance to prove their usefulness.”

It was the former General, and not the monk, who approached Gogo after the brief conference was concluded.

Celes arched one golden eyebrow reproachfully as she saw the way Gogo’s eyes were glued to every movement of her lithely muscled body. But she quickly realized when she watched Gogo move forward in a dead on imitation of her own commanding stride, that they hadn’t at all been checking her out, just practicing their trade. 

Well. They would see how useful the self proclaimed master mimic would be.

“How do we get out of here?” she demanded, eyes as cold as her voice.

Gogo studied her face with the slightest hint of amusement crinkling the corners of their eyes. “How did you get in?”

Celes gritted her teeth to hold back the sharp words she wanted to retort. 

Terra interjected, “I believe that the monster we encountered somehow cast a Teleport spell.”

Gogo tipped an imaginary hat to the half-Esper. 

“Oh,” Terra blinked. “All right.”

One teleport spell later, and the five were back on the island, not far from the Falcon, and the ashes of their campfire.

 

“What the…?” Daryl muttered, seeing a bright flash of light in her peripheral vision. She swore under her breath seeing the four — no wait, there were _five_? — people appear, ostensibly from a Teleport spell, not far from the abandoned campsite. “Setzer!” she shouted, already running to the boarding ladder. “They’re back!”

She heard Setzer running behind her, but didn’t slow to wait for him, knowing that with his greater stride, he’d catch up with her in no time. Shortly, they arrived where their friends had reappeared. 

“Who the fuck is this?” Daryl asked in her typically straightforward manner.

“Gogo, the mimic,” Sabin helpfully explained.

“Mimic?” Daryl asked.

“I’m still not sure how useful they’ll be myself,” Celes muttered, glancing sidelong at the silent mime.

“Maybe we should find out?” Edgar suggested. He unsheathed his sword, and tossed it to Gogo, who caught it easily, wrapping deft fingers around the hilt with the ease of one not unfamiliar with such things. “Celes, if I may?” the king asked, gesturing to the woman’s own weapon.

Rolling her eyes, Celes begrudgingly handed the machinist her blade, and stepped back to stand shoulder to shoulder with the others, who had all eased off a few paces to give Edgar and Gogo some space for the demonstration to come.

With no warning, the king darted forward, slashing his sword at the mime, who parried it with a perfectly symmetrical sweep of their borrowed blade.

The two began to move in such a gracefully executed sparring match that it could almost more accurately be called a dance. Gogo, true to their word, seemed to be able to expertly predict and imitate Edgar’s every move, leaving the two combatants locked in an eternal stalemate. After perhaps half an hour, Edgar called a truce. After handing Celes back her sword, and collecting his from the mime, he sat down on a large stone while he attempted to catch his breath.

“Ha!” Celes sounded both startled and pleased. “That’ll do. Welcome to the team.”

“That was awesome!” Sabin grinned, giving Edgar a fist bump, and laughing when he saw Gogo do the same, his same words spoken in the enigmatic person’s theatrical voice mere milliseconds behind, almost completely in tandem. The monk and the mimic also bumped knuckles, and now both Figaro brothers were laughing.

Gogo’s eyes lit with triumph and unrestrained glee, clearly telegraphing the wide grin that was hidden by the cowl of their robes. 

The now seven member party re-boarded the Falcon to continue their search for the star shaped mountain. Despite having lost most of the day, there were enough hours left to make some small progress, and they were loathe to waste them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took all my will-power not to toss is any "the spice must flow" or "Shai-hulud" references in the battle with the Zone Eater.
> 
> Also, the main reason I wrote Gogo into the story was my own little flip of the bird at the Gogo = Daryl theory. Heh.


	24. Chapter 24

Edgar sighed defeatedly as he saw his castle on the horizon. They had come full circle. They hadn’t found the star shaped mountain yet.

Well, to be fair, what were the chances they’d find it on their first attempt?

He knew from the meeting the group had shared over Daryl’s charts and maps, outdated as they were, though she and Celes were working to update them as they traveled, that the plan was to move southward, and then fly east once more, continuing either until they reached their starting point, or found the mountain range.

Now that the king knew his oldest friend had survived, he was anxious to find him. It was torturous to him watching the ground drawing nearer as Daryl landed the Falcon a safe distance from Figaro Castle.

Two days down, how many more to go in their search? Ah, well. What were mere days when counted against the eighteen months that had already passed since Kefka’s reign of terror began? Surely Locke would continue to be fine on his own a while longer. The self-styled treasure hunter had certainly always been adept at looking out for number one.

With what he hoped was a gracious smile, Edgar said, “My friends, let us adjourn to the castle for supper, and a night of sleep in real beds.”

“We’ll come for supper,” Setzer drawled, one gloved hand resting on Daryl’s shoulder lightly, fingertips toying with tendrils of her windswept hair. “But then we’re returning to the Falcon.”

“She might just fly away without someone to look after her,” Daryl added with an overly serious tone that was completely belied by the smirk on her face. It was very obvious which ‘she’ the pilot was referring to, and her smirk shifted to a grin directed at Setzer that was so far from subtle that Edgar felt as if he were watching them do something fare more intimate than look at each other.

“Suit yourselves,” Edgar shrugged. He certainly wasn’t going to dissuade them, since regardless of their motivation, having the pilots already on board at first light would cut back on the time it would take for the group to depart.

After Daryl had spent a few minutes locking down the controls, the group disembarked and began walking towards the castle. Aside from a few small monsters that the seven dispatched with deadly efficiency, it was an uneventful walk, spent in idle chatter.

Edgar divided most of his attentions between his brother, and the beautiful mint-haired mage, walking flanked by the two, as all three occasionally engaged in conversation. But he did also keep a watch over all his friends.

He observed Daryl joking around with Celes, the ladies walking with linked arms, their heads together, strands of golden hair mingling with that of brown as they laughed and talked.

Edgar noted that Sabin kept stealing furtive glances over at the two women, and he filed away the information for later consideration.

The machinist watched as Setzer toyed with a deck of cards, generously tossing a spare to Gogo, who seemed to be shuffling just as expertly as the gambler in no time at all.

It didn’t surprise the King of Figaro in the least to note that Setzer was giving far more of his attention to watching Daryl walk than to flourishing his cards.

As they drew closer to the castle, Edgar continued to observe his friends surreptitiously as Terra and Sabin bantered idly about dinner from either side of the king.

He saw the way Celes’s gaze would be drawn to the monk, before she’d quickly look away, sometimes with a wince of guilt. About half the time, the shame-filled expression would be chased away by a chillingly serene one, as the former General would lift her chin as if daring anyone to question where, or whom, she chose to look at.

Edgar smiled in genuine joy every time he saw Daryl grin across the path at her lover, beyond pleased that the woman seemed to be mostly out of her funk and back to what he assumed was her version of normal: energetic, sarcastic, a bit reckless, and determined to complete their missions.

While he tried not to stare, most often his warm blue gaze was focused on the delicately lovely half-esper woman walking at his side.

Edgar was treading carefully there. Despite all the rumors - many started by his own youthful boasting - the king was not nearly as experienced in matters of romance as most thought. He was also extremely aware of how unusual and sheltered Terra’s upbringing had been, and that she had only just begun to learn that she could love at all, thanks to her growing friendships, particularly with Celes, and the year she spent as mother to all those orphaned children. The children more so than any other experience in her young life had truly taught the powerful, yet vulnerable, mage what it meant to love.

The golden haired man knew that Terra was attracted to him.

He might not be very experienced in matters of the heart, but he wasn’t blind.

He also knew that he was attracted to Terra.

She was only the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But it was so much more than that. She was exquisite to look at, yes. But what truly captivated the king was the gentle compassion she seemed to have for everyone around her. The vital energy that filled her when she cast her spells, or transformed into her otherworldly other self. The almost childlike wonder she could find in everyday things.

He was astounded that with everything she had been through, she had such generosity of spirit, and such an unshakable belief in the inherent goodness of the world, and most the people within it.

The lady’s heart was more beautiful to Edgar than anyone, anything, any other experience had had ever encountered.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, however inadvertently, or come on too strongly and risk chasing her away.

He didn’t mind moving glacially slowly with her. After all, he wasn’t after a few shared moments of passion.

He wanted to make her his Queen.

Startled out of his reverie by Sabin’s hand poking into his bicep, Edgar sent a silent prayer to any listening gods that his cheeks would cool down before he got teased too much for blushing.

“Bro, you listening? Terra was asking if we could take get additional medical supplies from the castle. I told her it was probably okay, but, you’re the king,” the monk smirked at his brother, elbowing him good-naturedly. “I don’t wanna do your job for you!”

“Yes, that would defeat the whole purpose of you running off to Duncan all those years ago, wouldn’t it?” Edgar quipped, elbowing his brother back with a sidelong grin. 

“We are completely out of Remedies, Edgar,” Terra interjected amidst the brothers’ teasing banter, her voice serious.

Turning to face Terra, his teasing grin shifted to a warm smile. “Of course you can take any medical supplies you think we might need, Terra,” he promised. “It’s definitely better to be prepared, after all.”

“Thank you,” she murmured in her soft-spoken way, ducking her head, but not before he saw the smile grace her full lips.

If medical supplies were what it took to earn him that smile, she could clean out Figaro’s entire infirmary.

Shortly thereafter, the group arrived at the castle and gathered in one of the smaller banquet halls while they waited for the meal Edgar requested to be prepared.

When the seven gathered around the large table to enjoy a much more sumptuous meal than their camp rations of the past few days, they continued chattering pleasantly, and Edgar felt himself positively beaming in happiness.

Yes, the world was in ruins.

Yes, they had work to do, finding their lost friends. Bringing down Kefka.

He himself would _always_ have work to do, governing and protecting his kingdom.

But on evenings like this, sitting around in the safety of his castle, surrounded by his friends, satiated with his favorite foods… it was hard to feel anything but blessed.

After the meal finished, the group scattered. Celes pleaded fatigue, and went to soak in a luxurious bath before retiring to bed. Sabin went to his old quarters to meditate. Gogo seemed content enough mimicking the castle’s swordmaster, who was running night drills with some newer guardsmen. Terra hadn’t really said where she was going, but just wandered off with a smile and a wave. Edgar took to the ramparts, not wanting to shut himself away in his rooms just yet. He saw Daryl and Setzer walking towards the Falcon hand-in-hand and smiled, even as he turned away to respect their obvious desire for privacy.

He found a spot with a truly excellent view of the panorama of the desert at night, nothing but sand and sky for as far as he could see. He knew that had he much keener eyes, he’d see the sand end where the ocean began.

He loved this sight. It always helped him think. Even though tonight, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want to think. He just wanted to pretend for a while that the world hadn’t gone to shit, to borrow one of his brother’s favorite words, and that in the morning they weren’t honor-bound to resume their journey.

A journey that could culminate in failure.

In death.

With a shake of his head as if to cast such thoughts forcefully out of his mind, Edgar took several deep, calming breaths, and allowed himself the luxury of drinking in the quiet ambience of the desert night, his azure eyes falling shut, and his mind’s eye envisioning a beautiful, starry sky in the place of the shattered, distorted, discolored one that had been above them since the breaking of the world.

“Edgar?” he heard a most welcome voice speaking his name, and tried not to smile too widely at how delightful his name sounded in her dulcet voice.

“Terra,” he greeted her, sweeping a bow. “Join me?” he asked, gesturing to his side with a smile. “The desert is beautiful this time of night.”

The diminutive woman returned his smile, and walked over to stand next to him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her deceptively delicate form.

They stood together in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, for nearly an hour, if he judged the height of the moon correctly.

“Edgar,” Terra’s voice broke the silence a bit tentatively.

He looked at her, giving her his undivided attention, smiling encouragingly as he waited to hear her continue speaking.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked innocently, eyes earnest.

“Uh,” he coughed, and tried to think of an answer that wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t his current truth, not ready to share that. Yet. “Well, I loved my parents very much, and I love my brother…”

The half-esper woman shook her head in negation. “No, that’s not what I meant.” She clucked her tongue in self-recrimination. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.” Terra gave him a heartbreakingly lonely smile before she returned her gaze to the ever shifting desert sands.

“I love the children in Mobliz,” Terra explained. “I didn’t know if something… if _someone_ like me could truly love another. But I can. I know that now.” 

He saw her smile in profile, as she continued to look out into the night. He loved the way the joyful expression caused her jade eyes to sparkle in the faint moonlight.

“But, I know there’s more to love than that of a mother for a child,” she continued. “I’m not a child. Nor am I stupid.” She sighed. “I just don’t know how it _feels_.” Her voice was, in turns, frustrated and wistful. “I’ve been watching Daryl and Setzer, and they seem so incredibly happy. But more than that, they seem like…” she trailed off, brow wrinkling as she strove to find the right words. “…like two halves of one whole,” she finished the thought with a nod.

“I want to find that, someday,” she confessed in a whisper. Meeting his eyes again, she explained, “I know it’s selfish. We have more important things to think about.” Slender shoulders raised and lowered in a self-conscious shrug. “But why save the world if there’s nothing we wish to live for? I have my children to go back to, but… it’s not enough.”

Edgar had stayed as still as a carving, scarcely daring to breathe, let alone offer any commentary as Terra poured out her sweet heart to him. When it seemed apparent she was done talking, he realized he had to say _something_.

“I don’t think that’s selfish at all,” he countered. “Terra, the world fell apart around us. Yes, defeating Kefka is important. Helping people is a priority.” He gave her a crooked smile. “But surely we all deserve happiness just as much as the people we are fighting to save.”

He looked out at the desert again. “In a world that could end again, end for good, what could be more important than love?” his voice was only fractionally louder than the night breeze.

Edgar cursed in his head. Some may call it tossing caution to the wind. Less charitable souls might call it being careless and self-centered.

He rather thought it was taking his own advice.

Moving slowly, giving her every opportunity to realize his intent and object, he leaned forward and brushed the lightest of kisses over her parted lips.

“Edgar…” she breathed the word into his mouth.

He simply smiled at her, cupping one of her cheeks in his hand affectionately, giving control of the moment to her.

Terra lifted up on her toes to press her lips to Edgar’s, the kiss more firm than the one they had shared a moment ago.

The machinist and the mage twined their arms around each other and stayed that way long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't tagged Edgar/Terra as a relationship, because I felt it would be a spoiler up to this point. Maybe once the story has been up for a while, I'll add the tag.


	25. Chapter 25

Sabin’s focus was narrowed to three things in the hazy, pre-dawn hour.

He heard the muffled thuds of his feet hitting the sand.

He carefully regulated his breathing, counting to three with each inhalation, to three again with each exhalation, a technique he had learned his first day as Duncan’s student.

His keen visage watched his path to make sure he wouldn’t stumble over anything, or into anything - particularly the nasty monster nests that could be so easily concealed by the shifting sands.

The monk had been starting his days with a run for so many years now that it was second nature to rise just as the sun was beginning to, get outside, and just go. He had tried over the years to get Edgar, or some of their friends, to join him, but had had always been rejected.

At least until this morning.

Shooting a brief glance to his side, he nodded approvingly to himself as he saw Celes hadn’t fallen a single step behind, running at the exact grueling pace Sabin set for himself. He wasn’t really surprised, though. He knew Celes made sure to keep fit. She’d lived just as disciplined a life as he had, and for even longer years, just of a different sort.

Sabin imagined that being raised in the Magitek Knight program, Celes had been given little opportunity for laziness. He could see her struggling with the idle hours in the castle last night, before she gave up on trying to be social and went to her room. And even then, retiring for a hot bath, most people would look at as a luxury and maybe dawdle in the tub, feeling the tension draining out of limbs from the hot water. But he suspected she maybe allowed herself a couple minutes of soaking before just getting clean, getting out, and going to bed.

So that morning, he took a gamble that she was still an early riser, and knocked at her door, inviting her to join him on his run. He was almost embarrassed by how effusive her thanks was. I mean, dude, it’s just a run. 

But, he was glad he could do something to help a friend.

One lap was completed, and the sun had crested the horizon fully now.

Sabin was starting to feel the burn in his calves, but when he glanced at Celes and saw how damn relaxed she looked, he gritted his teeth and started a second lap rather than slowing.

When the second lap was completed, however, he slowed down to a walking pace to catch his breath.

“What a great way to start the day,” Celes said enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” Sabin agreed. “I just don’t feel awake until I get my morning run.” He grinned. “This is my coffee.”

“Ha!” she laughed. “Well, I’m still going to have a cup or two before we head out.” She matched his leisurely pace, her posture gradually becoming a bit stiff as her mind began spinning over all that they hoped to accomplish that day, and beyond. “Do you think everyone else is up yet?”

“Edgar got to bed pretty late,” Sabin admitted. With his quarters being next to his brother’s, he had heard how late his doors had opened. “But I would think he’d be ready to go by the time we get back.” The monk’s stomach entered the conversation with a loud, grumbling demand. “Uh, at least ready for breakfast, I hope.”

Celes chuckled. “Do you ever stop eating?” she teased.

Sabin smirked and flexed one well-muscled arm. “It takes fuel to keep all this goin’!”

They walked in companionable silence back to the castle, heading in and parting ways to go check and see if the others were awake, Sabin heading to the royal wing to check on Edgar, Celes heading to the guest wing to find Terra and Gogo.

A short while later, the five were gathered around a table, and Sabin was delighted to see the cooks had prepared both bacon AND sausage. Score! He took generous helpings of each, a scoop of fried onions and potatoes, and mixed it all together before digging in.

Conversation was limited as everyone broke their fasts, but Sabin listened attentively as Edgar and Celes conferred over the today’s plan of action. It was a pretty simple one, really. Breakfast, gear up, head to the Falcon, and begin another flight, first south a ways, then eastward, hopefully finding the mountains they were looking for before ending up back where they started.

Sabin frowned as he noticed that while Celes was on the second cup of coffee she had talked about, she hadn’t eaten a single bite.

“Hey,” he said after he finished chewing and swallowing his current mouthful. “Celes. Eat.” He shoved a serving platter of bacon towards her.

The blonde woman blinked, and then surprisingly blushed. “Oh. Right.” She smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Sabin nodded in satisfaction when he saw her start to nibble on a piece, then tucked back into his own food.

In short order the group were on their way across the sands, toting several packs full of provisions, medical supplies, spare armor and weapons, changes of clothing - all the essentials they wouldn’t have on the Falcon, since it wasn’t certain when they’d stop by a town again. They also packed a somewhat ludicrous amount of spare tents… just in case.

Sabin was happy to see Edgar and Terra holding hands. It was cute the way Terra blushed when she noticed Sabin watching them. It looked like she tried to withdraw her hand, but Edgar apparently wasn’t ready to let go, and much have squeezed it harder when he gave her that soft smile. Terra’s answering smile showed she had no objections.

Okay, yeah, he was gonna mock his bro for that later. Not Terra, Sabin would never want to be mean to the half-esper, and he was always uncertain how much teasing she could take. But his brother was fair game. It would give Sabin something fun to do during the long, boring hours in the sky.

The monk watched Gogo walking a few paces behind Celes, who led the group that morning. While he gave the mimic an A for effort, Sabin didn’t think Gogo quite got the Magitek Knight’s graceful, commanding stride correct. He…she…it? would need more practice.

Come to think of it…

Sabin jogged ahead to be walking alongside the enigmatic mime. “Hey, Gogo. Are you a dude or a lady?” He heard Celes choke back a laugh at the directness of his inquiry.

“Yes,” Gogo replied easily in the carefully modulated tone they used when not mimicking someone else’s speaking pattern. “I am.”

Sabin groaned, but figured it was the best answer he was gonna get. Shooting Gogo a grin to show that he got it, the monk ran forward the last few paces to be walking alongside Celes.

“Hey,” he said in greeting.

“Sabin,” she replied, nodding at him. 

“We should get there soon, huh?” Sabin scanned the horizon, looking for the Falcon.

“Not too much longer,” Celes said. 

Sabin nodded and kept walking. “I hope we find something soon. I know it’s way faster than our feet or even chocobos, but man, I hate the inactivity of just standing around on the airship all day.”

Celes shrugged. “It’ll take as long as it takes.” She sighed. “But I do understand. It’s hard to just stare at the ground from on high.” She smiled. “We could spar again.”

Sabin’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Hell yeah!” he agreed. “I’m pretty sure big brother would love to be paired up with Terra for his watch, anyway. We can fight when it’s their turn!”

Celes’s smile grew wider, though a bit wistful. “Edgar and Terra… who’d’ve thought?”

Sabin laughed. “I thought Terra had better taste!” he made sure to keep his voice down from his usual hearty volume, not wanting to offend the soft-spoken mage.

“I think they’ll be good for each other,” Celes mused. “It’s good that they’ve come to an understanding.”

“Yeah,” Sabin said, not really having much for add. He hadn’t really even given romance much thought, always busy with his training, and then with all the world saving. He knew Celes did, though. 

“Hey, don’t worry, Celes. We’ll find him,” Sabin said reassuringly. “Locke, I mean,” he clarified, in case he wasn’t entirely clear.

“Right,” Celes said a bit dully, not continuing the conversation, but instead focusing on the just barely discernible view of the Falcon up ahead.

Sabin was a bit confused that his friend didn’t seem more excited, but hell if he understood women, or love, or most of anything that didn’t have to do with battle. 

 

“They’re almost here,” Setzer called across the deck, in the direction of Daryl, who was hanging half over the rail to adjust one of the propellers. She had insisted the balance was off kilter. The gambler thought she just wanted to tinker with something while they waited.

“I’m almost done!” she shouted back to him. “Just need to… ah! Got it!” with a triumphant grin, she levered herself back to the deck. “You take first shift today, love,” she offered with a smirk. “You’ll feel the difference once we get to a good altitude.”

He walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sure I will,” he said. While Setzer didn’t think anything had been off about the Falcon’s glide yesterday, it was her baby, and he remembered all of his constant tinkering with the Blackjack, always trying to make it’s flight better, smoother, faster. He wasn’t going to argue.

When their friends boarded and got settled in, Setzer went through his mental pre-flight checklist. He knew Daryl had checked over everything already, but it was habit, and a smart one.

Finally, everyone had their gear stowed. Celes and Sabin were at opposite sides of the ship for first watch. Edgar and Terra were belowdecks. Gogo was… somewhere? Setzer wasn’t entirely sure. And Daryl was walking over to join him at the helm.

“Ready for lift off, darling?” he grinned at Daryl.

“Are you asking me, or the bird?” she snarked with an answering grin.

Setzer’s answer was a laugh as he engaged the engines and steered the Falcon up into the burnt orange skies. 

Ah… the wind in his face, the love of this life at his side, he could almost forget the world was on the brink of destruction.

Several comfortable hours passed before he handed over the conn to Daryl. After pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he walked off, chuckling a bit from the knowledge that she probably didn’t even notice he was gone, so focused was she on the flight.

Good. He was glad it was such a joy to her.

Terra and Edgar had taken over the watch of the lands below, so Setzer walked over to join Sabin and Celes, who had already been joined by Gogo. 

“How’s everyone doing?” the pilot asked.

“Good,” three voice said in near unison, prompting Setzer to blink.

“We’re gonna spar, if you wanna watch,” Sabin said, jumping to his feet.

Gogo mirrored the motion. Celes rose with a more controlled, graceful movement.

Setzer grinned and stepped back to give the combatants ample room.

 

Celes felt her thoughts grow blessedly silent. Rather than the usual cacophony of data - what did they need to do today, how was everyone doing, how were their supplies holding up, where would they find their other friends - she was able to just be in the moment, trying to read Sabin’s body language well enough to predict his next move, and prepare to counter it, or launch her own offensive.

They spared with their typical weapons, both assured enough of their own expertise and quick reflexes that neither was concerned about actual harm. And really, the Cure magic wielded by Celes and Terra would be sufficient if there was an accident.

Celes made a quick mental note to start Daryl on some basic healing magic. Then cursed, quite creatively - she had been raised around soldiers, after all - as her momentary distracted thought gave Sabin an opening.

She raised her blade just in time to parry his claws. Goddesses, but she loved this. Sabin was so skilled, but his training had been sufficiently different from hers, it made it such a challenge.

Hell. It made it _fun_.

Celes whirled to one side, trying to catch him off guard, and was thwarted, the monk wearing a broad grin as he defended smoothly, before bouncing back a couple steps.

They continued in that vein for perhaps a quarter of an hour, neither succeeding in truly penetrating the other’s defenses, but both having a hell of a good time.

A few paces away, Gogo mimicked Sabin’s every moment, and Celes was not-so-secretly relieved to further confirm that adding the mysterious mime to their party had been a good choice.

Eventually, she and the martial arts master called a truce, Celes sheathing her sword, and Sabin taking off his claws, and hanging them from his belt, putting clever little covers over the blades so he wouldn’t inadvertently cut himself.

“Good match!” the monk said enthusiastically, sticking out a hand in a show of good sportsmanship.

Celes took his hand and shaked it firmly, offering a friendly squeeze before she dropped it. “Yes,” she agreed. “Let’s do it again soon.”

She turned to Setzer. “Nothing yet?”

The silver haired man shook his head. “You know I would’ve told you, even if it meant interrupting your training.”

Celes sighed. She did know that, but still, she hoped.

Wandering over to one side of the ship, she leaned against the railing, looking down over the bulwark at the slightly hazy view of the lands below. Where was that mountain range? Had the old man been wrong? Should they be looking for a different landmark?

“Hey!” she suddenly heard Edgar call out. “Isn’t that the Veldt?”

Peering more intently down at the ground, Celes had to agree with the machinist. “I believe so,” she called back, raising her voice to be heard over the winds.

“Should we stop and look for Gau?” Edgar shouted back.

Celes considered. It would mean yet another delay. But… could they pass up a chance to find another friend? 

The former General turned and looked at Setzer. He held up hand, stopping her before she could speak, nodded at her, and then walked to confer with Daryl at the helm. In short order, the Falcon was landed, and they were split into two groups - Celes, Sabin, Edgar, and Terra went to look for Gau. Setzer, Daryl, and Gogo stayed back at the ship.


	26. Chapter 26

Terra’s eyes kept continuously sweeping their surroundings. She knew her friends were doing the same. This was definitely the Veldt, and while it was possible Gau had crashed to the surface far from here, it was undoubtedly the place the feral boy called home, and as good a place as any to look for him.

Their search continued for long, grueling hours. The Veldt had already been positively saturated with monsters before the world got rearranged, and it hadn’t changed in the slightest, except perhaps that now the monsters were bigger, badder, meaner.

They even found a dragon, by all the gods. Terra had to admit the fearsome creature was beautiful, it’s scaled hide luminescent, such a pale, perfect white it practically glowed, even in the lurid light cast by the sun in this shattered sky. Strangely enough for a creature naturally equipped with razor sharp claws the length of Terra’s forearm, and teeth that were even more deadly, this dragon seemed content to use magic. So it was a simple matter for Terra and Celes to cast Reflect spells on themselves and their friends, and ride out the somewhat long battle with really no damage taken. The Magitek Knight also wielded her Runic Blade to absorb the worst of the attacks.

Finally, the group stumbled upon a cave. Upon entering it, they found a small group of men. They reminded Terra of Locke, so she assumed they were thieves - ‘treasure hunters’, she mentally corrected herself, not even wanting to offend in her thoughts - and she figured she was correct from the loot bags next to them, around their fire.

Celes took charge of the questioning, but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, either asking the wrong questions, or taking the wrong tone. Edgar tried a couple queries, too, but wasn’t getting anything. 

Taking a deep breath, Terra decided to try.

“Hello,” she smiled at the strangers. “We’re looking for a friend of ours. A youth with hair a brighter green than mine. He might act more like an animal than a person, but he’s very much human. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, the monster kid?” one of the thieves asked. “Yeah. Seen him taking on all sorts of monsters out there,” he gestured with a thumb towards the cave’s entrance. “He ran whenever we got too close, though. Seemed skittish of too large a group.”

Terra thanked them, and the four Returners headed back out of the cave, to leave the thieves to their business.

“So, maybe some of us should wait back at the Falcon?” Sabin asked dubiously, clearly not loving the idea of paring their group down farther.

“Gau always did seem more eager to approach if we numbered three or less,” Edgar reminded them all.

“So who gets sent back?” Sabin was direct as always.

Terra smiled. “I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to,” Celes started to object, but Terra cut her off.

“I can get back to the Falcon the fastest, and the safest, on my own.” With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, focused inward, and felt herself blur. When she opened her eyes again, they were feral and fiery. “I fly,” she managed in her keening, otherworldly voice.

 

Edgar watched the half-Esper soar off into the sickly-hued skies. By the Triad, she was so beautiful. Turning his attention back to their mission, he looked at Sabin and Celes. “Well. Shall we continue?”

The three continued to trek across the Veldt in a fashion meant to cover as much terrain as efficiently as possible. They found many battles, but no wild boy jumping out at the end begging for dried meat. Perhaps the thieves were wrong, and their friend wasn’t here.

“Brother!” he heard Sabin shout out. “Over here!” The monk’s voice was grim.

When Edgar walked to his brother’s side, he quickly discerned the reason for his brother’s particular vocal tone.

Sabin had found Gau. Or more accurately, Gau’s corpse. It looked like they had missed him only by a matter of days - long enough for his body to start to decompose, drawing the attention of bugs and predators alike, as evidenced from the disconcerting chunks of flesh missing from his corpse. But not so long that they couldn’t recognize him.

Edgar felt tears prick his eyes, and he struggled to maintain composure. With all the monsters around, this was neither the time nor place to lose control.

Celes looked more stoic than ever, her face a frozen mask more icy than her strongest Blizzaga.

Sabin loudly retched into some nearby bushes.

“I will… take care of him,” Celes offered.

Edgar looked at her inquisitively.

Celes looked a bit pained, and a bit awkward, at having to explain. “It doesn’t seem right to leave him to scavengers. We have nowhere to bury him. I know it’s not my specialty, but…” she trailed off, getting the unfocused look that Edgar had learned meant she was calling on her arcane skills. A moment later, flames flickered at her fingertips.

“Do it,” Edgar said harshly.

Sabin threw up again as Celes incinerated Gau’s body.

Their trek back to the Falcon was made in silence. The three only paused long enough to dispatch any monsters foolish enough to try and get the jump on them. Their search was concluded and they wanted nothing more than to get back to the ship, get airborne, and hopefully have a better outcome on the next mission.

Climbing aboard, Edgar tersely updated the rest of their group, before stalking off to resume his place to the starboard side of the bow, ready to resume his scouting duties. When Terra joined him, he silently took her hand, both offering and taking comfort in the touch.

It was inevitable, really, that not all of their friends would survive. But that didn’t make this any easier to bear.

A few more hours flying brought them to a grassy expanse that Edgar recognized as the plains to the south of the city of South Figaro. They had come full circle again, with no luck in their original objective. However, since it was now quite a bit past moon-rise, it was time for a halt for the night. Daryl landed the Falcon with efficiency, and the five of them who were not pilots (“I need to check the oil levels,” Setzer insisted, Daryl averring it was vital maintenance) disembarked and pitched tents, no one much in the mood to talk as they ate simple field rations before retiring.

They all rose with the sun, broke camp, and in short order, the Falcon was at cruising altitude once more, with those on first shift peering over the rails, trying vainly to spy the star shaped mountains as they again set their course eastward.

“Oh!” Edgar heard Terra exclaim in surprise. “That’s the tower! Celes, Sabin, Daryl - remember?”

“Fuck, that was a bitch,” Daryl almost growled the words, so thick was her frustration. “We walked towards it for hours until we realized we couldn’t get at it.” The mechanic’s expression brightened. “We can totally get to it now that we have wings!” She almost ran to the helm, ostensibly to give Setzer the heads up on the divergence from today’s plan.

Edgar felt himself shrug. Still feeling the sting of Gau’s untimely death, he was feeling a bit uncharacteristically off center, and didn’t really feel like arguing. If his friends wanted to check out this tower, so be it. Maybe they would learn something helpful.

When they landed at the Tower, the same party ventured forth who had initially done so at the Veldt - Edgar, joined by his brother, Terra, and Celes. Daryl seemed torn between a desire to see the tower that had eluded them those weeks ago, and a desire to stay with her ship. The ship won. 

Edgar took along his chainsaw in addition to his auto-crossbow, and noted that Sabin had his claws, Celes her sword, and Terra had pre-emptively tranced to her Esper form. Clearly they were all still ill at ease from both encountering a dragon - and a dear friend’s corpse - and were taking no chances.

As they walked towards the tower, Edgar heard the low droning sound of voices chanting in unison. Edgar frowned and strained his eyes to try and see. It took a few more paces, but the could see a cluster of robed figures marching in a circle around the base of a tower so tall that it was dizzying to try and look up to it’s peak.

A small cluster of more plainly dressed individuals stood to one side. Edgar approached them, smiling in what he hoped was a disarming, friendly manner.

“Hey,” Edgar greeted them. “What is this place?”

“Shrine to that God of Magic,” one of the men muttered uneasily.

“Kefka,” a woman added. “These.. fanatics… are devoted to him. They just walk around and chant all day.”

“But there’s supposed to be a treasure,” another person put in to the conversation. “That’s why we came.”

A fourth voice spoke up, “The problem is that the tower is full of monsters that can’t be harmed by physical attacks. Only mages can survive the trek upwards.”

The king of Figaro looked at Terra and Celes. It seemed that the half-Esper and the Magitek Knight would be on point for this venture.

He thanked the group for their information, and walked away a few yards with his friends. “So, what do you think? Do we try and find this treasure?”

“Probably isn’t a treasure,” Sabin snorted. “Who even knows if that tower is solid, built by a buncha madmen.”

“Maybe we can find their leader,” Celes reasoned quite logically. “Should we really allow a cult to Kefka to exist?”

Terra growled one word, “ _Up_.”

“All right, I guess we get climbing,” Edgar said. He tried to remember some of the magic he had absorbed from the magicite before the breaking. Well, at least they had Terra and Celes. His brother seemed to have the same thought, as the men fell back and let the women take point.

It was a long, harrowing climb. They barely made it up one set of stairs before they were beset by magical creatures. Then another… and another… 

Edgar felt frustrated. He was able to conjure a few basic spells, but his role mostly fell to tossing Ethers over to the mages as needed. Would this damnable tower never end? They had to be up over fifty floors already, and strain his eyes as he might, he still couldn’t see the top.

They journeyed onward, resting occasionally to allow Celes and Terra a breather, though neither woman would rest for long. Not nearly as long as Edgar thought they should, but he trusted them to know their own limits.

At long last, they climbed a staircase, and Edgar saw they had reached the top. There was a small enclosed room in front of them, the doors sealed. As the four arrayed themselves before the doorway, it slowly creaked open to reveal a familiar figure.

Edgar felt his face light up in a smile. “Strago! You survived!”

When the blue mage stepped from the shadowed doorway into the lurid light of day, such as it was, Edgar’s enthusiasm died off as quickly as it had risen.

The old man was alive, yes, but he looked very different than before.

He still wore the remnants of his familiar clothes and red cape. He still sported wispy white hair and a bushy mustache. But that was where the familiarity ended.

Strago wore what appeared to be a mantle of bones, unsettlingly enough, over his stained clothing. He leaned heavily on a rod that Edgar knew far better than to think was just a cane, it was certainly an aide to the old man’s magic.

“Strago…” the machinist started again, uncertain.

“So, it is _you_ ,” The blue mage hissed in a raspy voice. “My old friends, off to save the world once more?” He barked a humorless laugh.

“What happened to you?” Celes interjected. “How can we help?”

“Help me?” Strago asked, with a pained look in his rheumy eyes. “There’s no help for me.” His voice was dark, unyielding.

“You’re not making any sense,” Sabin said in confusion. “What are you doing on this tower? It’s a fucking monument to Kefka. He’s the _bad guy_.”

“There are no good guys. May as well pray to the strongest bad guy,” Strago explained logically.

Edgar started at the old man. Had he lost his wits when he crash landed? The king didn’t realize he’d asked the question aloud until he heard Strago wheeze a laugh in response.

“Didn’t lose my wits… lost my granddaughter,” he explained.

“No,” Celes gasped, gray eyes going wide with shock. “Not Relm…”

Strago fingered the bones he wore around his shoulders, and Edgar felt sick as he realized who they must belong to. “Her skull was crushed by a piece of debris from the airship,” Strago said. “She died before she ever reached the ground.” He cackled, the sound a bit mad. Fitting, in this environment. “I thought for sure my old bones would never survive the fall, but it seems I’m cursed with life. A man should never have to outlive his child… and I’ve now lived longer than both daughter and granddaughter.” The old man looked more tired than anyone should ever have to feel.

“I am so sorry,” Edgar said, tears streaking unheeded down his dirty face. “Relm was such a spirited girl. Perhaps now, she is reunited with her mother.”

Strago yowled. There was no other word for it. “She. Should. Be. HEEEEEEEERE!”

Lightning crackled, and Edgar felt his hair crackling from the static electricity. 

Great. Strago, the blood of the mages of Thamasa thick in his veins, a powerful blue mage in his own right, was pissed. Unhinged, and pissed.

And looking for someone to blame.

“It’s all your fault!” the old man shouted. “If you people hadn’t come to our village… hadn’t filled our heads with ideas about saving the world… hadn’t made me feel I owed you, for saving her from the fire…” he swept his staff off to one side, and fire crackled in the air. “None of this would have happened. NONE OF IT!” He snarled, and it would have looked comical, with those poofy mustaches, if it hadn’t been for the terrifying glint in his cagey eyes. “You _fools_ cost Relm her life! You cost the world!”

“No,” Terra growled, holding up her hands, flames flickering at her fingertips. “Not us. Kefka.”

“Kefka,” Strago started to laugh again, “is the only one strong enough to destroy this world. Why should anyone else live when my family is gone?” The blue mage began chanting, and Edgar reflexively fell back in a battle stance, though he figured his tools would have little effect against such a powerful sorcerer. A sidelong glance showed his brother had the same thought.

Celes wore a look of sincere pity. “Strago. We are all sorry for your loss.” She took a hitching breath. “We loved Relm, too! But _this_ is not the answer!” She began to chant, re-casting the hazy blue barrier of a Reflect spell around her party.

Edgar tried to reason with the man. He had been their ally, once, after all. “Strago, come with us. We’re going to take on Kefka, get the world back to normal, try and save things.”

“ _But you can’t bring her back!_ ” the blue mage howled. “AQUA RAKE!”

The old man’s magic fizzled out ineffectually against Celes’s Reflect.

It went on like that for longer than Edgar cared to remember. Strago kept throwing stronger and stronger spells at them, but Celes maintained the protective barrier. The old man looked positively rabid. Spittle flying from curled back lips as he chanted each spell, his eyes dark with anger and loss. Edgar didn’t know what any of them could possible do. Terra had tossed out a few healing spells, and they’d had no effects on the blue mage’s insanity. It was as if all of his logic had died with Relm.

“ _Firaga!_ ” Terra whispered, her feral yellow eyes compassionate, in stark contrast to the spell she was conjuring.

“Terra, NO!!” Edgar screamed.

But it was too late.

Flames engulfed the old man, and then there was nothing left but ashes.

“What have you done?” the king fell to his knees, sobbing. “He was our friend!”

Terra’s incandescent body blurred, shrank, and became human once more.

“He wasn’t Strago anymore,” she explained amidst the tears pouring down her cheeks. “Oh, Edgar. He was already gone.”

Edgar knew she was right. But gods dammit, how many of their friends would they lose in this war?

He buried his face in her midsection, still on his knees, arms wrapped around her waist, and cried.


	27. Chapter 27

Daryl felt her lips thin in a grimace as she maintained her grip on the wheel, steering the Falcon inexorably onward. 

The last few days had been challenging, to say the least. 

First, her friends found the mangled remains of a former comrade. Despite Daryl never having met the boy, she understood that they mourned, and she, too, mourned the loss of an innocent life.

Then, they checked out that mountain-circled tower, and discovered two more of their friends were lost… one to the Blackjack’s destruction, and one to the madness that consumed him from witnessing that death.

Daryl was worried about Edgar. The king hadn’t said a word to anyone in three days. He wouldn’t even look at Terra.

And Terra was a mess.

Daryl had spoken with her. The half-Esper didn’t regret what she had done. She truly believed she was ending her friend’s misery, and that nothing had really been left of her friend - that his mind, his consciousness, had died when his granddaughter had - and that it was a mercy to end the madness being wrought by his body, in Kefka’s name.

But that didn’t mean Terra expected her friends to see it the same way she did.

Terra thought Edgar must think her a monster.

Daryl sighed, trying to banish all these thoughts from her mind. It was a challenge to think of aught else, though. Their journey had gone so well that she had forgotten how challenging it had started, back when it was just Celes and her against an empty world, trying to survive. Daryl had gotten spoiled by making new friends, by reuniting with her lover, by getting back her wings.

Reality was crashing back in all around them with a relentless lack of mercy.

Fuck. _Fuck_. They needed a break.

Daryl had just the thing.

She always had a good head for geography - kinda necessary when you were driving flying machines around the world - and she knew that the village Terra had been staying in, Mobliz, was not far from that tower. At least, not far as the Falcon flied. So, she ignored their mission, and headed southeast, making towards the village of children.

She knew if nothing else, it would do Terra good to check in on them.

Maybe the laughter of the innocent could help pull Edgar from his funk.

If not, Daryl had a stash of strong spirits that may help.

Setting the Falcon down carefully a couple hours later, Daryl locked the controls, and walked over to where her friends gathered. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Celes tried, again, to argue. 

Daryl gave her a flat look. “Yeah. We do.”

“But…”

Daryl cut off the Magitek Knight. “Hell, Celes, _this_ is what we’re fighting for!”

The blonde warrior couldn’t argue that.

Everyone except the two pilots filed off the ship quietly. Daryl looked at Setzer. “Don’t you want to go with them?”

Setzer walked to stand beside her, and took one of her hands in his, his violet eyes dancing with mirth despite the somber mood of the day. “Don’t you get it yet, darling? I’m not leaving you again.”

Daryl made herself roll her eyes at the romantic sentiment, even as her heart fluttered in her chest. “Definitely growing soft in your old age.” She squeezed his hand, lifting it to brush her lips against his knuckles.

The gambler laughed, the sound rumbling low in his throat, as he drew Daryl close. “Soft, am I?” he whispered in teasing challenge, as he pressed his body firmly enough against Daryl that she could tell he was anything but.

She felt her eyes widen in surprise, even as she felt herself respond to the feel of his arousal, hard and heavy against her thigh. “ _Now?_ ” she asked a bit incredulously. Though, it made a certain kind of sense. In a world full of death, people had to find ways to reaffirm life. And, even if Daryl took careful precautions to ensure they wouldn’t create any new life, she couldn’t deny that the physical acts of love - whether they were tender, or passionate, or depraved - definitely reaffirmed that she was gloriously alive.

“Okay,” she breathed the word, before bringing her lips to Setzer’s in a searing kiss. She could feel his hands sliding up her back, beneath her jacket and tunic, nails scratching lightly along the delicate skin. 

Well, that simply wouldn’t do. The man was treating her like spun glass.

Twining his wind-blown white hair around one fist, she yanked his head back sharply, leaning back to lathe her tongue along one side of his neck from collarbone to ear. Catching his earlobe in her teeth she hissed one word: “ _More_.”

And he delivered.

Teasing traces of nails were replaced by fierce clawing that fell just short of drawing blood. Loving kisses became peppered with firm bites. Hands that had been content just to caress now tugged and pinched.

She gave as good as she got.

Her teeth marked both sides of his neck, and she never relinquished her hold on his hair, tugging his head exactly where she wanted him to go. Her free hand palmed him through his pants, feeling how ready he was for her.

With a yelp, Daryl felt herself lose her hold on Setzer’s hair as he spun her around. She grabbed the inert steering wheel with both hands for balance as her lover lowered her leggings just enough to push inside of her.

“Fuck!” she shouted, arching her back, pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts.

“I am,” Setzer couldn’t resist being a smart ass, even in the middle of this. 

Daryl had to laugh, and laughing tightened certain muscles in such delightful ways, causing her to shake in a full body shiver, even as she felt her lover respond to the increased pressure with a throaty groan.

It was over entirely too fast for her tastes, but she knew they’d have more time later. Letting herself slump to sit on the smooth planks of the deck, she looked a bit blearily at her love.

“Better?” she asked with a touch of her typical asperity.

He just chuckled.

 

Terra thought this was the best idea Daryl had ever had.

She couldn’t stop smiling. She knew she shouldn’t feel this happy, what with all the disaster that had befallen them in recent days.

But it was just so wonderful seeing her children again!

Terra spent the hours playing games, reading stories, talking privately with Katarin, who grew more anxious the closer she grew to delivering her babe.

She spared a thought to worry that her friends were perhaps bored, or angry with the inaction of the day. But Terra needed this more than she had needed anything in a long time.

She didn’t think of any of her friends were so heartless as to think that the ordeal at the cultist’s tower was easy for her. But, still. It was a burden she alone had to bear.

They might all think her every bit the monster she looked in her Esper form.

But her children still loved her, still needed her, and Terra was drinking up the attention like a dehydrated woman offered a cup of water.

Terra was aware that Celes, Sabin, and Gogo were outside sparring. 

She was more aware of Edgar’s every move, to be honest.

At present, the handsome King of Figaro was reading a story to a small knot of younglings, five little faces staring up enraptured at his every word.

Terra sighed. Edgar would make such a good father…

She felt her cheeks heat. That was getting a bit ahead of herself. Sure, they may have shared some moments, before… but.

That was all _before_.

Could he ever forgive her?

Could he ever look at her the same?

 

Edgar finished reading the story and shut the book with a flourish, smiling at the children who had been listening. He offered one of them the book. “Run along, now,” he suggested, standing. He sighed, feeling a bit awkward at the domesticity of it all. He didn’t really think they had time to babysit. They had a job to do. It was never more apparent than these past few days, when they found their potential number reduced by three.

The machinist was basically one raw nerve, over exhausted from lack of sleep, and not yet willing or able to take the time to process everything that had happened.

Every time he tried to sleep, he saw her fierce, feral form, heard that word: _Firaga!_

And he watched his friend burn.

Edgar walked outside the house, walked past where his brother, Celes, and the mimic were sparring, and just kept walking. Not too far, he wasn’t stupid, after all. He knew there was safety in numbers, and he wasn’t looking for a fight he could not win.

Just for a moment’s peace.

Settling himself down on a tree stump, he stared off over the murky, purple water of the ocean blankly, not really seeing the way the sunlight dappled the waves, his sight turned inward.

He saw Gau’s half eaten body on the Veldt.

He saw the terrible compassion in Terra’s eyes before she immolated Strago.

He saw Strago’s ashes scatter on the wind.

He imagined what it must have looked like when Relm’s skull was crushed by debris from the Blackjack.

How many others, he wondered, had also died?

Edgar felt intensely selfish worrying about the fate of his friends. Hundreds, if not thousands, had died when Kefka shifted the Statues. More had continued to die every day, from monster attacks, from the Light of Judgement, from starvation. How dare he hope that the rest of their ragtag bunch of would-be heroes had emerged unscathed?

But, hope he did.

Edgar sat there for hours, grateful that none of his friends interrupted. It gave him time to come to terms with things. 

He knew, ultimately, Terra had been right to act as she did.

Strago had been an immensely powerful blue mage, the product of a powerful arcane bloodline.

Allowing a mage of his strength to live, while clearly driven far beyond the edge of madness, would have been irresponsible.

As irresponsible as when Emperor Gestahl had allowed Kefka to live once it was apparent that the fledgling Magitek infusion had broken the prodigal soldier’s sanity.

That didn’t make the death hurt any less. But Edgar knew that Strago would have hated to exist like that. To be hurting innocent people, to be causing such harm. To be _worshipping_ that Goddesses-forsaken self-proclaimed God of Magic.

No. It was for the best.

As for Gau and Relm… he just hoped they went quickly.

And maybe it was a mercy. This world… it wasn’t a place for children.

Not the most comforting thought, surrounded by the sounds of children playing, in this village made up of naught but younglings.

Edgar startled when he heard the crackle of footsteps, crunching on fallen leaves and twigs. When he looked towards the sound, he felt his chest tighten with a myriad of conflicting emotions.

“Edgar,” Terra said softly by way of greeting. “May I join you?” Her mossy green eyes entreated him silently. 

He shifted so that half of his stump was empty, a wordless invitation for her to join him. He felt the warmth emanating from her slight body, felt the press of her leg against his, as she sat beside him.

“How are… are you…” Terra trailed off, seeming lost for words. When he looked at her, he felt tears prick his eyes anew, awash in her compassionate gaze. 

“I’m tired,” he answered her half formed question.

Terra nodded, laying her hand on his shoulder for a moment, before she drew back, as if worried the touch would be unwelcome.

Edgar didn’t have it in him to reassure her right now. He hadn’t lied. He was just so damned _tired_.

“I don’t know if I can stand finding another dead friend,” he admitted. Let her think him weak, or cowardly. It was best to be honest.

He heard Terra exhale raggedly. “Me, either,” she said.

Edgar let his head hang forward, not wanting to make eye contact, feeling too wounded, too vulnerable. But, he felt he had to offer _something_. “I know that was hard for you, Terra.”

He heard Terra start to cry in response, and he reached out to place a comforting hand at the small of her back.

“I just… I knew… He couldn’t… and I…” the half-Esper woman stammered, trying to explain, but unable to talk coherently between her sobs.

Edgar shifted on the stump, gathering Terra into his arms. He pressed his cheek against hers, and whispered soothing noises, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, anything to try and help calm her down. 

Eventually the mage’s tears were spent, and she slumped listlessly in his embrace.

“I don’t think I could do that again,” she whispered, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“No one would ask you to,” he said gently.

Leaning forward, he placed the softest of kisses on her trembling lips.

Her eyes shot wide in surprise. “You still… after what I did… you still…?” her half formed question hung in the air tensely.

“Always,” he murmured a bit brokenly, and buried his face in her hair.

 

Setzer greeted his friends with solemn nods as they filed back on to the Falcon the next morning. He hoped that the time in Mobliz had helped them, as much as the uninterrupted time on the Falcon with Daryl had helped him.

He knew they were likely going have another disappointing day of failing to find a mountain range they were all becoming more convinced didn’t exist, simply the product of an old man’s faded memories.

But, it was all they had to go on. And, damn it, they were due some joy after all this horror. Something had to go their way.

Setzer was a gambling man. He never tried to deny it.

And he would lay odds on their group any day, no matter how dire the situation.

The good guys always win. Right?

He heard the propellers start to circle, and felt the vibrations in the deck as the engines kicked in, lifting the Falcon off the ground. Today would be the same as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. A short hop south, and then eastward, looking for the star shaped mountain, or stopping when they reached their starting point.

The first few hours didn’t even require anyone to be on active scouting duty, as they flew over the brackish ocean waters. Nothing to look at but the ever-flowing waves.

But then, they started to see land again.

They flew over a town. Setzer was certain it was his home city of Jidoor, though it looked a bit worse for wear. By silent accord, they didn’t stop, but continued onward, though he would have desperately loved to stop and see who had survived, what had survived. Was the Opera House still standing? Daryl’s family home? Setzer had cut ties with his family long ago, but he knew that she wanted to know what fate had befallen her own.

He wasn’t going to make such a personal request, however, when he knew that his friends were focused on their task: find Locke, find their other friends, face Kefka, defeat Kefka.

Restore balance to the ruin.

He just hoped that he and Daryl weren’t the only ones with something to live for after their assumed victory.

Hours passed, and Setzer and Daryl traded places, the man now manning the helm while Daryl stood beside Celes, talking quietly as they, and Sabin, took a turn watching over the rails.

The sun began to set, and Setzer considered it might be time to find a landing place. 

But then Sabin shouted, “I see it!”

The gambler grumbled at the necessity of staying at the wheel, as he watched his other five companions cluster around the monk, looking where he pointed. They conferred for several minutes, and then Daryl rushed to his side, dark eyes sparkling.

“It’s an exact fucking five pointed star, made up of mountains,” she swore. “That crazy old man wasn’t lying to Celes after all!” she rattled off the coordinates he would need to safely land the Falcon. Similarly to their approach to the ill-fated tower, they had to land within the mountain range itself in order to access the cave system that was said to hold this fated treasure: the Phoenix. 

The Returners weren’t too concerned with the remains of another Esper, no matter how useful magicite had always proved to be. No matter how mythical this particular Esper’s legend was, the creature fabled to have the power to even bring back someone from death.

But they were concerned with the rumors that one of their own was here, now, hunting for it.

Despite the setting sun, they agreed wholeheartedly not to put off the search any longer. After all, they were going into a cave system, which would be just as dark at noon as it would be in the middle of the night. They had torches. The had mages.

They were determined to succeed.

Dividing up into two groups - one formed of Edgar, Terra, and Gogo - the other formed of Sabin, Celes, Setzer, and Daryl - they began their search.


	28. Chapter 28

Celes shoved a hank of sweat-soaked golden hair back from her eyes irritably. Perhaps unsurprisingly for the resting place of the Phoenix, this mountainous cave system was hot. Too hot. Rickety bridges crossed rivers and lakes made up of lava, the steam from the fiery pools adding damp heat to the already arid air.

The battle hardened former General thought she was used to trudging along in her armor in all sorts of conditions, but nothing she had faced before prepared her for this intense level of heat. She noticed that even Sabin, in his typical cut off shorts and tank top, seemed drenched in perspiration. Poor Setzer had been forced to double back shortly after they entered, tossing his beloved coat in a heap by the cave’s entrance to collect when they were through.

Celes wondered how the other group was faring. While it made sense to split into two groups - they could cover more ground, and they could do so far more efficiently - she worried about Terra, Edgar, and Gogo.

Enough of that. This wasn’t the time to dwell in her own thoughts, it was better to keep her attention focused on their surroundings. So far, monsters had been relatively weak, most dispatched with a quick Blizzard, or a flick of the razor sharp card-knives Setzer carried. But, that could change at any time.

It was hard not to fall into the trap of her thoughts, though. Locke was here. Supposedly. She would see him again today. 

Celes wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Those months ago when she first woke up, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

But, since learning that he had re-devoted himself to his quest to try and resurrect his dead lover, she was having trouble finding much enthusiasm.

Yes, they had flirted. Yes, they had kissed.

By the Triad, they had been in the middle of a war zone. 

Celes was no stranger to battlefield relations, to finding comfort with your fellow soldier, to making what joy you could out of a miserable situation. She had never… fraternized… with any Imperial soldiers before, but she knew comrades who had formed unlikely partnerships, borne on the field of combat.

And she knew how often those partnerships survived after the battle ended.

With a growl of annoyance, she increased her pace, stepping across yet another too-rickety wooden bridge, suspended over a stream of molten fire.

She fell for him fast, and he had seemed to fall for her just as quickly. But… he also cast her aside with alacrity the moment Kefka taunted them at the Magitek Research Facility. 

Locke chose to believe an insane man over the woman he supposedly cared for and trusted.

Sure, he apologized later, when their paths crossed again. But she hadn’t forgotten.

Nor had she forgotten that at times he seemed just as solicitous of Terra as he had of her.

It was hard to feel…well…special when you saw your closest friend receiving the same attention you enjoyed. Not that she begrudged Terra a single moment of the kindness she had enjoyed from their friend. But, still…

To say Celes was feeling torn would be an understatement.

She decided to just wait and see what happened. There was no rush, despite the fact that the world was crumbling around them, to make any decisions at that precise moment. First, see if Locke was really in this cave. Then, see what happens with the Phoenix, and Rachel.

Change of plans. First, deal with the _fucking dragon_ that just popped out of gods-know-where!

Celes immediately started chanting. Dragons usually meant magic, so best to be prepared. She efficiently cast Reflect on her friends, and herself.

While Celes was busy with her magic, Sabin cast an Aura Bolt at the dark crimson beast.

Setzer cast forth his cards, and when he saw they had little to no effect, he winced, shoving them in his pocket. He had the slot magicite, but, it was so unpredictable. Perhaps he would be best suited to handing out curatives as needed.

Daryl had one hand clenched around the Maduin magicite she still wore as a pendant, and the other flung out towards the dragon as she shouted, “ _Blizzara!_ ”

Celes swore when the dragon seemed to possess a talent that wiped her Reflect away. But then she grinned.

Time to go old school!

The Magitek Knight unsheathed a sword she had been using less and less, and even then, she tended to use it as simply a blade, rather than fully utilizing the magical properties it was infused with. As Celes’s magical powers had grown, her desire to use the sword had decreased, outside of sparring for fun and exercise. Magic just always seemed more effective, more efficient. Even now, she wouldn’t be using the blade itself as a weapon, but it’s magical attributes. Celes made a mental note to start giving her weapon the respect it deserved, and use it in battle more often. But, for this battle… the magical ability infused in the blade would be essential, since the monster was able to counter her Reflect.

“Daryl, take a break with your magic!” Celes shouted, raising her sword high overhead in a two-handed grip. “Runic Blade!” she screamed, and the weapon glowed with a shimmering light for an instant. She lowered the blade, and held it in a ready stance, eyes on the dragon.

Sabin continued using his Blitz attacks, chipping away at the dragon’s defenses. 

Daryl followed Celes’s order and stepped back, watching for an opportunity to either use her throwing daggers, or for Celes to indicate she should use magic again.

Celes’s keen gray eyes saw the dragon appearing to ready a spell. Sure enough, an instant later, it roared as a Firaga blasted towards the group.

And was absorbed by her Runic Blade, infusing her with some added energy, her entire body tingling with a, to her, almost audible buzz. 

She exhaled sharply. Using the Runic Blade wasn’t the most comfortable, physically. But it got the job done.

“Daryl, NOW!” she yelled.

“Right!” the pilot shouted in reply, quickly readying and shooting off another Blizzara.

Sabin continued to pummel the creature with his mystic martial arts. The dragon was starting to look a little worse for wear.

Celes waited until the instant Daryl’s spell impacted on the red dragon, then again invoked her runic blade, holding it up high so it flashed in the firelight filling the cavern.

Suddenly from across the expanse of the room, several crossbow bolts sang through the air, landing in the dragon’s neck, causing it to howl in anger and pain.

Celes whipped her head to the side and saw Edgar, Terra, and Gogo race over to the fight.

“Nice of you to join us, bro!” Sabin laughed, before launching another Aura Bolt.

“Didn’t want you to have all the fun,” Edgar said between panting breaths, as he re-loaded his auto-crossbow.

Terra quickly tranced into her Esper self, and watched Celes. She was no stranger to the blonde’s Runic, and she wasn’t going to expend her magical energy until the time was right.

Gogo seemed momentarily crestfallen at their total inability to mimic Terra’s whole body transformation, and instead went to stand alongside Sabin, immediately launching into a parallel as the monk flew threw the air to kick the dragon in the snout.

The dragon howled in rage, launching a Flare spell at the party, which was again absorbed by the Runic Blade. Celes cursed under her breath, swaying slightly where she stood. The stronger spells always seemed to hit her harder when they channeled through her blade.

Terra knew that was her chance. She inhaled deeply, and Celes would have claimed the room darkened, as if the half-Esper mage was sucking the very light into herself along with the air.

“ _Blizzaga…_ ” Terra crooned, extending the vowel sounds almost as if she sang the word, both arms gracefully arcing through the air, hands flinging towards the dragon as the magic materialized. 

When the icy dust settled, the dragon was no more to be counted among the living. It’s partially frozen corpse was left as a monument to their battle.

“Well, that was… bracing,” Edgar quipped as he strapped his weapon to his back.

Sabin laughed. “Hey, you’re just lucky you made it in time. That was fun!”

“You and I, we have very different ideas of ‘fun’,” Setzer growled, shaking his head.

As pleased as Celes was to have all her friends together again, and bantering just like old times, she interjected. “Edgar, did your group find anything?”

The king shook his head in negation. “Nothing. Yours?”

“No. Except the dragon, of course.” Okay, so Celes wasn’t totally immune to the lure of being a smart-ass after battle, either.

Edgar barked a sharp laugh. “Of course, of course.”

“So, what now?” Daryl asked. “We keep looking around? Hopefully find more thieves, less dragons?”

“That’s _treasure hunter_!” a voice called out from the direction of one tunnel.

Celes felt her heart rate increase, and was positive her friends could hear the organ thundering in her chest.

“Locke!” Edgar shouted, clearly recognizing his longtime friend’s voice.

Seeming to have nary a care in the world, Locke Cole sauntered into the dragon’s lair with a grin on his face, tossing a green rock - magicite? - on one palm. “Edgar, Sabin, hey! Terra! Setzer!” His voice trailed off when his eyes landed on Daryl and Gogo. “I… don’t know you two, but hey!” He grinned for a moment, though it faded around the edges when he met Celes’s somber eyes. 

“Celes,” he said softly.

“Locke,” she replied evenly.

“Okay, great reunion and all, but can we get the fuck out of here?” Sabin interjected, motivated both by a desire to break the growing tension, and get out of the infernally hot cave.

“Yes, please,” Setzer chimed in.

Edgar laughed. “Okay, we can catch up on the Falcon.”

“Falcon?” Locke asked.

Daryl waved a hand. “Mine.”

“It’s an airship,” Edgar tried to help ease Locke’s confusion.

“Uh, it’s more than _an_ airship, it’s the _best_ airship!” Daryl asserted with a fierce grin. Setzer’s fond chuckle was a good backdrop for her words.

Celes rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics, but she was not unamused. “Let’s go.” Turning, she led her friends back the way they came, and after a couple hours of walking, and a few minor skirmishes with monsters that seemed much weaker by comparison to the dragon they had defeated, they emerged into the light of day, such as it was. Setzer collected his discarded coat, and the eight boarded the ship.


	29. Chapter 29

It was nearing midnight, Daryl figured, from the height of the sliver of moon perceptible behind the hazy filter created by wispy clouds. They had spent perhaps six hours on the Phoenix Cave venture, from landing to takeoff, and it seemed the trip was well worth it.

Despite the late hour, everyone seemed too keyed up to sleep. Perhaps that would change once they’d been underway a bit longer. Daryl knew that the ambient noise of the engines could lull her to sleep. And probably would, if she wasn’t currently manning the helm. From the combination of the hours of walking, spell-slinging at the dragon, and the emotional tension that had been building since Locke joined their party, she was fucking wiped.

A smile curved her lips and lit up her eyes when Setzer walked over to join her. 

“Need a break, darling?” he asked, and warmth filled her chest hearing the sobriquet. That had always been his preferred term of endearment for her since they were teenagers, but she still loved hearing it, every time.

“I’m good,” she said in response. With a grin, she added, “Wouldn’t mind some company, though.”

Setzer laid a hand agreeably at the small of her back, and the two fell into a comfortable silence as she piloted the Falcon towards Kohlingen. The flight would likely take the remainder of the night, getting them to the city just in time for sunrise. She suspected the newcomer wouldn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary to take the cracked magicite to the old man’s house and see if it’s restorative powers were intact. 

Daryl had to shake her head. A magicite that could bring back the dead. Was there anything these Espers couldn’t do?

She glanced around the deck and saw Edgar and Locke pulled apart from the others, Edgar ostensibly updating his best friend on everything that had happened over the past year and some-odd months. Down a ways, Terra and Celes were deep in conversation, their body language giving clear signals that they didn’t wish to be interrupted. Sabin appeared to be practicing martial arts stances - katas, she thought he had called them - with Gogo nearby mimicking the monk’s every move.

Daryl wished that she could make Celes and Locke sit down and talk all their crap out, because, by the Triad, this deliberate wedge forming in their group was simply not going to work for long. She saw the way the treasure hunter’s eyes kept darting towards Celes when he thought they others weren’t watching him. And Celes was behaving similarly, though after each glance, she seemed to stand even stiffer and taller beside Terra.

Maybe she should just take the two and lock them in a storeroom until they worked out their shit?

She decided to give them a few hours to figure it out themselves. 

Daryl was determined to spend those few hours fully enjoying the flight, the conversation with her love, and the cool night air on her face.

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Locke said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. “Terra was playing mother to a village of children. You were playing leader of a band of thieves to break into your own castle. Sabin was traveling around being a hero. Setzer was destroying his liver. Celes was in a fucking coma. Daryl was taking care of her. Gogo was living in a strange parallel dimension reached through a monster’s digestive tract.”

Edgar sighed a bit irritably at his friend’s summary. “Terra was certainly not _playing_ at anything, and I won’t have you saying she was,” he defended the mage. “But, yes,” he admitted. “Other than that, your summary is basically on the money.”

“Hmm, aren’t we the gallant protector,” Locke, of course, picked up on his longtime friend’s subtext immediately. “Isn’t that usually my job?” He grinned. “So, you and Terra, huh?”

“Yes, well,” Edgar stammered a bit, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. He was relieved when Locke didn’t say anything to cheapen it.

Locked clapped a hand on the king’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Edgar muttered, looking at his shoes, still blushing.

“Celes was really in a coma for a year?” Locke asked.

Edgar nodded. “It’s just fortunate that she didn’t crash to ground somewhere uninhabited.” He shook his head. “We’ve all been remarkably fortunate, all things considered.” The king felt the last of the blush fade from his face as he paled, realizing the falsehood in his words. He hung his head a bit shamefully at having forgotten even for a moment, even as the logical voice in his mind insisted that this was how you survived, by focusing on the good instead of dwelling on the bad. Mourn, yes. Respect, yes. But you can’t dwell, or you’d be lost.

“Poor Relm,” Locke murmured. “And Strago. And Gau.” He laughed humorlessly. “The kids and elderly are always the first causalities of war, one way or another, even though this seems more random acts of bad than anything to do with age.”

“Indeed,” Edgar agreed, feeling weary again. Gods. Relm… Gau… Strago. His dreams were still haunted by images of Terra loosing her magic on the blue mage, mingled with images of Gau’s chewed corpse, of Relm’s skull being crushed, his imagination helpfully filling in that which he had never seen.

“How’s she doing?” Locke asked softly, eyes darting furtively in the direction of Celes and Terra.

Edgar considered his response. “Celes has been amazing. Her magic has grown even stronger, her fighting skills haven’t faded, and she’s helped keep morale going when our searches were going nowhere.”

“But how is she _doing_?” Locke asked insistently.

Edgar looked at him flatly, and spoke plainly, knowing his words would hurt. “She was the one who insisted we try and find you, find everyone. Then that old man in Kohlingen told her all about your devotion to Rachel. She was heartbroken. She tried to hide it, but… we’re all living in close quarters here. She started spending more time alone, and Terra tells me she has heard Celes crying at night when she must think that her roommates are asleep.”

Locke fidgeted a bit as Edgar spoke, but he took in all the words, thinking seriously before responding. Yeah, he liked Celes. She was beautiful, deadly, amazing. They had shared _something_ before the end of the world. He would have said they were falling in love, before everything went to shit, but now?

Hell, he woke up, amazed he was still alive, and all he could think about was his debt to Rachel.

He knew it was selfish. He knew he should be out helping people, trying to find his friends so they could try and save the world from falling even further into decay, but fuck it. _Fuck it_. He had almost died. That tended to reorganize a man’s priorities.

Locke just couldn’t die before he fulfilled his promise. He couldn’t.

Besides, compared to powerhouses like Terra, Sabin, Celes, and Edgar… what good could he really do? He could steal stuff, and he was handy enough with a blade, but he was aware of his own skills enough to recognize he’d never be the deciding factor in battle.

“I’m sorry to have caused her pain,” Locke finally spoke. “But I have to do this, Edgar. If I’m going to die… and it seems likely we all will, sooner rather than later… I want to die knowing that I tried everything to make good on my promise.”

Edgar nodded slowly. “I know. But, Celes doesn’t.” He offered his friend a crooked smile, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Talk to her, man! Explain your promise. She’ll understand.” The king’s expression hardened. “We can’t have you two at odds. We’ve got work to do.”

Locke nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

 

Celes was doing her best to stay invested in her conversation with Terra, but she was horribly distracted by the knowledge that one Locke Cole was standing a few yards down the deck. He was alive, he was here, they were together again…

Except they weren’t. That much was clear.

Locke had avoided her just as assiduously as she had avoided him. And Terra had already called her out on it. Thankfully, her green haired friend had been content to move on to other things, and so far their conversation had spanned a range of topics from the half-Esper’s blossoming romance with the King of Figaro, to ideas for expanding Daryl’s magical education, to Katarin’s advancing pregnancy, to where they might find the rest of their friends, to their final battle with Kefka.

At the moment, Terra was rambling on about magical theory, and which magicite they might give Daryl next. Celes paid the conversation enough attention to make the right noises at the right times, but that was about all she had in her. This day had been draining, both physically and emotionally, and it was far from over. Despite the late hour, no one had seemed willing to try and sleep. They still had several long hours of flight before they’d reach Kohlingen.

And once they’d reached Kohlingen…

No. She wasn’t going to worry herself over what-ifs. She would wait and see what had happened.

One thing, however, Celes was completely certain about.

She and Locke might be able to be friends again. But despite those scattered kisses and flirty words they traded before the cataclysm… they wouldn’t be anything more.

If the Phoenix magicite worked, Locke would have Rachel back, anyway. And if it didn’t work, he would need time to properly mourn before moving on to a new romance.

Celes didn’t fancy herself a rebound, or a substitute.

Maybe, in a few years, once they defeated Kefka, and they all had time to emotionally rebuild themselves from all the tragedy they had been through. 

But certainly not any time soon.

She was pulled back into the present moment when Terra looked past Celes’s shoulder with a smile. “Hello, Locke.”

“Terra,” the man said, nodding. “Could I borrow Celes for a while?”

“Of course,” the mage said graciously. She gave Celes a smile, squeezing her hand, then walked off to stand by Edgar, leaving Locke and Celes alone.

“Locke,” Celes offered a terse greeting, arms wrapping around herself protectively as she turned to face the man, slate gray eyes meeting his cobalt visage dead on. She only said his name. He wanted to talk? Let him talk.

“Celes, I…” the adventurer started to speak, one hand reaching to adjust his bandana, a nervous habit Celes recognized from before. “I’m sorry. I should have explained more when we got to know each other, but everything was all so intense and we were all so focused. It seemed silly to talk about my past.”

Celes waited patiently for him to get to the point.

“Rachel and I, we weren’t just lovers,” Locke admitted. “We were engaged to be married later that year, before the accident happened. When she died, I promised to find a way to save her. Silly, I know,” he laughed self-deprecatingly. “How can you save a dead person?” He smiled ruefully. “But she was my entire life, Celes. When she woke up with amnesia, it broke me. I traveled the world trying to find a cure. I should have been there in Kohlingen when the Empire attacked. I could have - should have - been there for her.” The anger he clearly still felt for himself was evident in his tone.

Celes felt herself soften. “You didn’t know what would happen. You can’t keep blaming yourself for something that happened so long ago.”

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, ‘cause I can turn off my feelings just by saying I shouldn't feel them anymore.” His smile held no warmth, but shared a wealth of emotion, the expression painting a picture of his struggles with inadequacy. 

“I had to do this, Celes,” he said in a quiet enough tone, the words were almost stolen by the wind. “I couldn’t die knowing I hadn’t tried everything.” He took a deep breath, exhaling raggedly. “If this doesn’t work… then that’s it. I’ll be able to finally move on. I’ll be able to die knowing I did my best.”

Celes gave him a flat look. “Nobody else is dying on my watch,” she snapped. “So stop that line of thinking right there, mister.” She tried to sound more like a friend, less like a battlefield commander. “No matter what happens in Kohlingen… you’re among friends, Locke.”

He smiled at her for real that time. “Thanks, Celes. Hearing that, from you… it means a lot.”

She nodded. He nodded back, opening his mouth to speak again.

“SOMETHING’S COMING!” Setzer yelled from down-ship. 

Celes and Locke ran over to the knot of people made up of Edgar, Setzer, Sabin, Gogo, and Terra. It was hard to make out in the night skies, but something else - something _huge_ \- was bearing down on the Falcon.

“Try and evade it!” Setzer shouted over his shoulder towards Daryl.

“You think I’m not?” the pilot snarled back, hands white knuckled on the wheel as she tried to coax every bit of speed and maneuverability out of her ship. “Whatever the fuck that thing is, it’s coming in fast, and it’s following our every move!”

“Right,” Celes said briskly. “Terra, morph. Edgar, auto-crossbow. Sabin, prepare a blitz. Perhaps fire dance would be effective on a moving target. Setzer, go back Daryl up. Gogo, mimic Sabin.” She paused. “Locke, if you have a throwing weapon, this would be a good time to say so. Otherwise, give us curatives as needed.” The Magitek Knight unsheathed her sword, and settled into a fighting stance.

Everyone hastened to do as Celes directed.

Terra tranced into her Esper state and shot up into the air, already chanting in preparation of the creature’s arrival. When it drew into range, the mage shot a burst of flames at it, scoring a direct hit.

Locke armed himself with his Hawk Eye, a boomerang style weapon with a sharply bladed edge. “This should do,” he muttered to himself, eyes on their opponent. 

Edgar nodded agreement to his friend, even as he readied his own weapon.

The firelight cast enough illumination for everyone to see the monster more clearly. It had broad, leathery green wings, a purple insect-like body, and it’s head appeared to be a skull capped with large horns, wearing a chilling grin.

Edgar shot a barrage of arrows from his auto-crossbow, and Locke tossed his Hawk Eye at the beast. The projectiles seemed to annoy it more than anything.

Celes steadied her posture and held up her blade. “Runic!” she shouted, channeling her energies into the sword to awaken its arcane properties. She hoped she had been loud enough for Terra to hear her.

A multitude of fiery images of Sabin danced through the air towards the beast as he used the blitz she had recommended, the number of images doubling when Gogo successfully copied the attack.

The monster emitted a discordant shriek, wheeling around to come at the ship from the other side.

Celes felt it deep in her gut when her blade absorbed the magic. It caught her so off guard she almost fell over, having been unaware the creature was casting. 

Terra took advantage of the moment to shoot off a quick Firaga, before Celes recharged her sword.

Celes could hear Daryl cursing eloquently and creatively as she continued to try and keep the ship on course between all the fireballs and flying weapons and giant skull-headed monsters. 

“Take the wheel!” Daryl shouted to Setzer, before running over to the fight. She swore again when she saw the creature fire a spell directly at Celes, apparently smart enough to figure out that the blonde woman was the one thwarting it’s magical attacks, but not smart enough to realize that directed magic wouldn’t work. The Runic Blade absorbed the spell easily.

“You messed with the wrong airship, you nasty little fucker!” she screamed at the monster, before flinging both hands in the air. “ _Thundara!_ ” She felt her hair raise around her head in an aurora from the crackle of electricity in the air. Holy gods, that felt stronger than any spell she had cast before. What the fuck?

“Celes, hold up on the runic!” Daryl yelled. “I wanna try something.” She clutched the Maduin magicite necklace almost as if in prayer, before planting her feet firmly and glaring up at where the monster circled above the Falcon. 

“Understood!” Celes shouted in response, efficiently sheathing her sword. “Seems a shame not to re-purpose all that magical energy I absorbed. _FIRA!_ ” She decided to stay away from ice magic, having noticed the monster casting it several times, and guessing it might have an affinity for that element.

The fiery-bodied half-Esper seemed to be enjoying herself. She wove around the beast, flinging fire spells at it as she passed by. The monster actually started to fly away from the Falcon, a bit of smoke rising from one particularly scorched wing.

“Oh no you don’t,” Setzer muttered, throwing his entire body against the wheel to turn the ship about sharply, giving chase to the beast. He shook his head roughly to toss wind-blown white hair out of violet eyes that were gleaming with the same savage grin that lit up his scarred face. He did so love a challenge. With a battle cry, he continued to chase the now obviously fleeing monster, occasionally having to jolt the Falcon to one side or the other to avoid Terra’s Firagas.

Terra was terrifying to behold. She flew effortlessly apace with the skull-headed creature, tossing out Firagas every few moments with the same ease another mage might cast Fire. Her chanting never halted, the occasional bursts of “ _Firaga!_ ” a staccato counterpoint to the overall rhythm of her deadly song.

“Terra, wait!” Celes screamed, seeing the monster was charging up another attack. She got her blade up just in time, wincing as the magic poured into her through the sword. Damn it, they needed to finish this, and fast - she couldn’t take much more of these increasingly powerful spells. “Terra! All you’ve got!”

“Yess,” the half-Esper’s voice hissed in response, eerily audible over the sounds of battle despite the soft tone. Terra shot through the air towards their opponent, hands outstretched. She never stopped chanting, and several more Firagas shot off in rapid succession. In the meantime, Sabin and Gogo continued to pelt the monster with blitz attacks, and Edgar stalwartly fired his auto-crossbow. Locke tossed his Hawk Eye with uncanny precision, reclaiming the boomerang style weapon with alacrity and loosing it with barely a pause so that the weapon seemed to be moving in continuous long, swooping circles. His accuracy at that considerable of a distance would have been awe inspiring if anyone had a moment to notice it.

Meanwhile, Daryl was still intently focusing, hands locked around the now glowing Maduin magicite. Narrowing her eyes, she let go of the gleaming green rock, raising her arms overhead, palms thrust skyward with splayed fingers. She took a deep breath, aligning the monster in her sight once more.

“ _THUNDAJA!_ ” she cried, her mind supplying the word even if she didn’t consciously know what it meant. Daryl saw a huge bolt of lighting strike the monster, and then she saw no more, having passed out from the effort of channeling such an intense spell before she had trained up to it properly. Much like an adrenaline surge can give someone a burst of extraordinary strength in time of peril, Daryl’s magical strength was unleashed by the threat to her beloved Falcon, her lover, and her friends.

Setzer saw his lover fall and screamed impotently, knowing he had to keep his hands on the wheel or they’d all die. He felt a little better when he saw Locke run over and use Phoenix Down on the woman, the orange-red feathers sparkling as they fluttered to land on the unconscious pilot. He noted approvingly that Locke stayed with Daryl as she began to rouse. The gambler couldn’t spare much of his attention for her recovery, however, as it was quite challenging to fly in all the turbulence caused by the battle. He couldn’t help but grin, though, fiercely and joyfully - it was an amazing flight.

After gliding onward for a few seconds that seemed like hours, as if it’s body hadn’t yet realized it was dead, the monster emitted a last keening shriek, and then its broken, scorched form plummeted towards the unknown terrain below, indiscernible in the patchy moonlight.

Everyone seemed to collectively release the breath they’d been holding, and finally, the Falcon’s flight leveled out. 

Setzer called Edgar over to take the helm, much to the machinist’s unmitigated joy. That joy was only squashed slightly by the low voiced threats the pilot left him with before hastening to Daryl’s side, to see how she was recovering.

Terra circled a few more times, then landed on the deck, reverting to her human self and slumping down to sit on the deck, clearly exhausted.

Celes went to sit by her, putting an arm around her shoulders in a protective and fond hug. 

She looked to her other friends, and said with surprising humor, “So…ready to sleep _now_?”

“Sleep good,” Sabin said with a huge, jaw-creaking yawn. “But, question.” He pointed at a small rock that lay gleaming in a patch of moonlight on the planks of the Falcon’s deck. “Did someone drop that?”

Daryl reached out and touched her still intact pendant. “Not me.”

After quickly rifling a hand in his pockets, Locke shook his head. “I’ve still got the Phoenix.”

Terra stood and walked over, kneeling down to pick up the magicite, turning it over in her hands. “I don’t recognize this magicite. That monster must have had it.” She tucked it safely into a pouch on her belt. “I’ll work with it and try to determine who it is, and what magic it contains.” The diminutive mage hid a yawn behind one hand. “In the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm not going to make Daryl suddenly this OP mage, I wanted to give her a special ability of sorts (akin to Terra's Morph, Celes's Runic, etc) and I decided to give her a strong affinity for Thunder magic.
> 
> Song I listened to while writing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vIEwLe_hVY


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like music, just loop this... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvEU79Wwkqs

In the twisted tower a world away from Kohlingen, the self-styled God of Magic was _pissed_.

Those _fucking_ Returners! Why couldn’t they just die already?!

Kefka raged around the chamber at the pinnacle of his tower, throwing books and magicite around with equal ferocity, kicking at the furniture and tearing down the draperies.

“Hate them,” he spat out angrily. “Hate them so much. Hate. _Hate_. **HATE**!”

Doomgaze had been his eye in the sky. A simple minded, if powerful, beast, Kefka had been able to use his superior arcane skills to control the monster, seeing what it would see, directing it where to fly, who to attack, who to destroy…

Ahh… _destroy_ … destroy, destroy, destroy… what a lovely word!

Kekfa giggled happily, scampering to the center of the room where the Statues of the Warring Triad held court amidst a sea of magicite. In his insanity, Kefka had been working on grafting the magicite to the statues directly, but he hadn’t succeeded yet. 

He caressed the stone monuments almost lovingly, cooing, “What should we incinerate today, hmm?” He chortled. “Looked like those pests were heading towards Kohlingen. I hope they didn’t have anything important waiting for them there, uwee-hee!” Capering around the room in a deranged jig, Kefka drew on the statues power, shooting powerful beams of light that spanned continents. “Destroy! Kill! _BURN_!” he chanted merrily, waving his hands around like the conductor of the Jidoorian Opera House, arcs of arcane energy crackling between himself, the statues, and the pile of magicite.

The scattered green gems began to float in the air, glowing with an otherworldly light that refracted off the faceted stones, bathing Kefka’s bizarrely painted face in an icy blue light. As Kefka drew more and more power from the magicite, they began to orbit around the man and the statues at a rapidly increasing pace. Ahh, _yes_ , the power…

If only he could see the inferno through Doomgaze’s eyes.

Those _fucking_ Returners!

The angry thought made him lose his concentration, and the magicite fell the to floor with a clatter.

Kefka figured he had fired off enough Bolts of Judgement to raze Kohlingen to the ground, maybe leaving a pretty crater behind where it once had stood. The thought made him giggle again. “Oooooh, won’t they be upset! How delightful!” Kefka threw his head back, laughing uproariously as he pictured all their sad, pathetic little faces.

“I wonder if they’ll _cry_?” He wondered aloud mirthfully, starting to dance again. Oh, he was still cross about losing his pet monster, but this day was shaping up better than he could have possibly imagined!

Kefka watched the moon set and the sun begin to rise. Ugh. How bright! Even with his best efforts to rip up the sky, he hadn’t been able to tear down the dratted sun. Yet. Time for him to go to bed. He walked with a spring in his step over to his personal chamber, a small room hung with thick drapes to block out every scrap of that damnable light. Throwing himself fully dressed atop the thick covers, he slept the sleep of the magically exhausted. While his body replenished it’s arcane energy, however, his mind was free to wander into dreams…

 

Kefka Palazzo had worked hard for this day.

He was a rising star in the Imperial Army, the one the higher-ups had marked as a man to watch. Kefka spent his days in rigorously disciplined training. He studied strategy under the most decorated Generals. Learned to fence from the Vector’s finest swordmasters.

Now, today… he would attain a skill-set no one in the entire Empire had- except perhaps that mewling half-Esper brat, but that remained to be seen.

A year ago, Emperor Gestahl had led a successful raid on the Land of the Espers, bringing back with him a baby, just a few months old, who was said to be the daughter of a human woman and an Esper male. Along with the babe, the soldiers had captured as many Espers as they could, the magical beasts now locked away in Professor Cid’s laboratory. The scientist was tasked with unlocking the secrets of magic, so that the Magitek Empire could truly use magic. They already had better technology than the world had dreamt of in their Magitek Armor, giant mechs piloted by highly trained individuals, the armaments capable of using attacks similar to magic, but not exactly the same.

Kefka had worked with unwavering discipline his entire life for this moment. His friend Leo counseled caution, as he generally did - he was ever the more conservative of the two soldiers, preferring peaceful outcomes to battle, and trying to preserve the lives of as many of their ranks as possible out on the field.

Kekfa wanted _more_.

He wanted _power_.

Today… he would finally get it.

The man ran a hand over his bright golden hair, making sure it was still contained in the tight ponytail he wore for training. While too vain to cut off his glorious mane, he wasn’t so stupid as to let it flow free when it could put him at a disadvantage. He didn’t know what to expect to happen at Cid’s lab, so he had prepared himself as if going into battle . Kefka wore his best armor, and had his sword sheathed at his side. His feet had carried him to the lab with military precision. He had marched proudly through Vector, standing tall, filled near to bursting with dreams of the wonders he would perform for the Empire once this Magitek infusion had taken place.

No longer would he be Kefka Palazzo, Imperial Soldier.

He would be Kefka Palazzo, the first Imperial Magitek Knight.

Entering the laboratory, he paid little heed to Cid’s chatter, the scientist all aflutter with nerves as he prepared to inject the blood of an Esepr into Kefka’s veins. Which Esper, the man didn’t know, and he frankly didn’t care. He knew he’d come out of this with magic, and that was all that mattered. He trusted in the Emperor to have chosen a powerful Esper.

Kefka frowned when Cid directed him to a table lined with restraints, but ever the obedient soldier, he obeyed. After he stretched himself out on the table, Cid’s assistants moved in and fastened cuffs around his wrists and ankles. They were made of some sort of metal alloy that was theoretically supposed to dampen his newfound magical powers, in case he was initially unable to control the new abilities.

Whatever. Kefka wished they’d just get on with it, already.

Then he hissed out a sharp breath as a line of fire seemed to be snaking up his arm. Glancing at the painfully throbbing arm, his eyes widened when he saw the needle pulled away from his limb. The blood was in him. It was in him. In him, _in him_ , in him, _inhiminhiminhim…_

Kefka heard himself laugh, the sound loud and disjointed, as he writhed in agony on the table. His spine spasmed and arched, and his arms and legs were thrown against the restraints so hard he would certainly bruise. Ohhh, but this feeling!

No. He took one steady breath, than another. Cid had warned him that the influx of magic could make him feel… euphoric. It was his duty to fight it, to overcome it.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he heard someone giggling incessantly. After a long moment… he realized it was himself.

And that made him laugh even harder than before.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Cid stammered, wringing his hands nervously. “I’m not sure what happened, My Liege, but Kefka did not come through the process… intact.”

“What does that mean?” Emperor Gestahl demanded, eyes narrowing. This was to have been the first step towards the new world order he planned to impose on the masses. It can’t have failed.

“The infusion worked,” Cid whispered. “Kefka can use magic, oh yes.” The scientist paused, removing his glasses and busying himself with cleaning the lenses. “It’s just, um, his mind. Well, you see…” Cid cleared his throat, replacing his glasses on his face. “I’m afraid the process drove him quite insane.”

Gestahl stared at the Professor.

“Um, yes, he’s sedated now,” Cid babbled, pacing the room. “It’s the only way we could stop…”

The Emperor lost his patience. “Stop what?”

“The _laughing_ ”, Cid whispered, a frightened tremor coursing through his stocky frame.

Gestahl frowned, considering. Maybe he could still work with this. Maybe all was not lost.

“Test him. Carefully,” he ordered. “And continue your research. It is absolutely vital we get the Magitek Knight program up and running.”

 

From the neighboring room, Kefka carefully masked his cackle of delight. His ears seemed to work far better than before, he’d heard every word the Emperor and the Professor had spoken. Insane? Him? Pfft. Cid was just jealous, Kefka decided. He’d show him. He’d show them _all_.

He wasn’t able to muffle his laughter any longer, and after a lab assistant rushed to his side to jab a needle into his arm, Kefka’s world faded to black.

 

The next morning Kefka awoke with no recollection of his memory-laden dreams of the night before. He felt amazing! Ooh, he could feel the tingle of power radiating from the Statues and all of his pretty, pretty magicite!

He wandered through his tower chuckling to himself as he wondered how many people his rampage at Kohlingen had killed. That, of course, caused him to remember Doomgaze had been killed, and….

Kefka threw back his head and let out a bloodcurdling scream of anger. It echoed in the large stone chamber. Kefka hoped that it echoed so loudly those nasty Returners could hear it, could feel it skittering along the marrow of their bones.

He’d have to think up something even more special than Kohlingen’s destruction for them, yes, he would!

With that thought, all was right in his world again, and he began to waltz around the Warring Triad with an invisible partner, laughing so hard he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give credit where due, my beta had the idea to make Doomgaze Kefka's "eye in the sky", and I loved it, so here it is. I hope you enjoyed it, too, and the little backstory I came up with for Kefka!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you 3,000 words of Celes POV, dedicated to runicmagitek. <3

Celes was pulled out of her all too brief slumber by a blinding flash of light that she recognized. 

The haziness of sleep was replaced by a surge of adrenaline as she bounded up the stairs to the upper deck. She prayed the Light of Judgement wouldn’t blast the Falcon out of the sky.

“Report!” she barked, her old training kicking in, as she sprinted over to the helm. She saw Daryl fighting against the turbulence, lips pulled back from her teeth in a silent snarl. Setzer stood a mere pace behind the pilot, his hands fisted on his jacket impotently as he watched Daryl fight through the arcane storm, knowing there really wasn’t anything he could do to help.

“It started a moment ago,” Setzer said, turning to Celes with grim eyes. “Kefka making our night flight more ‘interesting’.” The attempted joke failed to achieve liftoff, and Setzer sighed, turning in the direction from which the blasts were emanating. He raised a clenched fist and shouted, “You fucking _missed_!”

Celes nodded curtly. “We mustn’t be his target, or we’d already be dead. Thank the Goddesses for small mercies.”

“He’s aiming right along our heading,” Daryl interjected.

“Fuck,” Celes swore softly, with feeling. “He’s destroying Kohlingen.”

Talk stalled out as everyone else thundered onto the deck, roused from dreams mere moments after Celes. Everyone reacted much as she had - anger and disbelief.

Locke’s rage, however, was so dark it made the rest of the Returners’ righteous anger pale to nothingness.

“That fucking lunatic!” He howled, running to the prow of the ship to stare in the directions the blasts of magic were firing. “No! I’ve come too close!” Locke’s anger slid into despair like quicksilver, fluid and fleeting. “I can’t fail now!” His voice broke on the words, as he held the railing with a white-knuckled grip.

Celes was at his side in an instant, laying a hand on his shoulder in support, and an effort to keep him from pitching overboard amidst the rocky flight. She wasn’t proud of the realization that with Kohlingen’s eradication, it would be one less bump on their long road to Kefka, but then, she was only human. Deciding to attribute the passing thought to the extremely scant, and broken, sleep, she moved on.

“Locke!” she shouted, giving him a shake. “Get away from there!”

He shot her a displeased look, but complied, and the two rejoined their friends, clustering around the helm.

“Give me some breathing room!” Daryl demanded. “I’m gonna take us off course. We have to get out of this Triad-forsaken turbulence, and fast!”

After several harrowing minutes that felt like hours, the Falcon’s flight leveled off.

Celes saw Daryl slump against the wheel, lips moving in something that might be prayer. Knowing her friend, it was probably a string of very creative curses.

No one seemed inclined to conversation as they watched in horror as more and more arcane bolts shot past. Gradually the arcane luminescence was superseded by the rising sun, and they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Celes squared her shoulders as she walked back to stand at the prow. It was the best vantage point to observe what damage was wrought by this latest attack on their already broken world.

As the Falcon descended towards Kohlingen, Celes could see at least half the city was lost. Slate gray eyes widened with the realization that if they had stalled at any point in their journey, Setzer would have likely been killed. It seemed fortune still favored the gambler, and for that Celes was grateful. He had been an invaluable addition to their group.

Enough of her friends had died.

She met Edgar’s determined eyes and nodded. “Let’s split into two teams. I want people on board the Falcon, in case any curious people come to investigate.”

Daryl and Setzer shared an expressively quiet look, both nodding before Daryl walked to stand beside Celes. “I’m with you.”

Celes nodded in acceptance. Goodness knows, she could use the friendly support in what was bound to be a stressful situation on multiple levels.

With a thoughtful expression, Terra spoke up. “I should stay here, then, so all our magical strength isn’t in one area.”

“Good thinking,” Celes approved. “Edgar, Locke, with Daryl and me. Sabin, Gogo, stay on deck.” She looked around to see if there was any dissent to her plan. “We’ll return by dark.”

Kohlingen was a macabre sight. Smoke rose from the charred ruins of most the town. Celes was forced to revise her airborne evaluation of the destructive impact of Kefka’s power as they walked through the wreckage. Only two buildings still stood.

Of course, one would have to be the house sheltering Rachel’s preserved corpse. _Locke needs this_ , she reminded herself. _This would finally give him closure_. That was a good thing.

They fell into a diamond-formation with Locke at the fore and Edgar at the aft. Celes and Daryl walked side-by-side, similar expressions of horror twisting their features as they took in the carnage, a kaleidoscope of burning buildings and shattered bodies.

But, they did see a few survivors. Even in this bleak world, life would find a way. Celes kept that thought close to her heart as they approached the ramshackle home of the batty old man who’d wrought dangerous miracles with his herbs.

Locke had just barely begun to knock when the door was flung open. “Eh? You again?” The elderly scientist blinked addled eyes at their group, peering at them one by one. “Well, come in, come in.”

Celes tuned out his inane ramblings, watching as he led Locke into the basement. Edgar went with them, a supportive bulwark for his oldest friend to lean upon if needed.

Daryl seemed restless. “I’m going to go take stock of what survived.”

Celes nodded, scarcely hearing her friend’s words. She leaned against the wall near the stairwell, just close enough that she could hear the murmur of voices, but far enough removed that the words were a mystery to her.

A fiery, unworldly incandescence filled the house, and the ambient temperature rose. Celes’s skin prickled with goosebumps, contrary to the surge of heat. Magic was quite obviously afoot. She fancied she could hear the timbre of a woman’s voice entered into the conversation, and felt her heart pound. The Phoenix magicite had _worked_?

The flame-hued light intensified, the increase in heat causing Celes’s skin to slick with sweat. Then, in a moment - it was gone - the light and warmth, both.

She waited. What else was there to do?

Edgar walked up first. He met Celes’s eyes solemnly. Edgar shook his head in negation, and walked out of the house without a word.

Locke came up the stairs on Edgar’s heels, eyes unfocused and feet stumbling.

Celes reached out and touched his arm. “Locke…”

He met her gaze and shook his head, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. “It worked… for a few minutes.” Locke’s face seemed frozen on the edge of laughter or sobs, Celes couldn’t tell which. “She forgave me. Rachel forgave me. Told me to go on with my life.” Laughter won, but it was devoid of any joy, falling discordantly into the silence of the house. “As if I could.”

Celes wasn’t really certain how to respond. She hadn’t entirely understood until their conversation the night before just how deeply invested Locke had been in this quest. To have it come to an end, and a disfavorable one, had to be draining. At least he had gotten those precious few moments. She hoped it was enough to enable him to truly move on and live his life, in time.

But, for any of them to really live, they had larger stakes at play.

They needed to defeat Kefka. Sooner rather than later.

In this moment, however, Locke needed her to be a good friend and help him through this. She reached out to him again, and assumed the shock in his eyes was from the death of his beloved. “Locke, I…”

“What, Celes?” His voice was a trembling hiss, a breath away from shattering. “Now that Rachel’s gone we can pick up where we left off?”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Celes snapped, narrowing her eyes coolly.

“Then, what?” Locke laughed again, mirthless and dark. “I can help save the world? I can start over?”

“Yeah.” Celes's voice was hard, so hard it might break if she was pushed even a hair farther. 

There was a time when Locke would have recognized that.

This was not that time.

“We can’t all have ice for blood like you,” Locke spat before turning and storming out of the house.

Celes was grateful he had left. She didn’t think she could hold it together much longer, and he no longer had the right to see her fall apart. The silver lining of Locke’s savage parting statement was the reaffirmation that any affection they had shared before the sundering of the world was gone. He was consistent in only one thing - the way he ran so hot and cold, friendly at one turn and accusatory at the next. Celes never knew quite what to expect with Locke. At first, that had been part of the appeal, but now?

She was tired.

Tired of the drama, tired of wondering who Locke would focus his attention on today - Rachel, Terra, herself, some random woman at the tavern that needed ‘rescuing’ from the horrors of an empty glass.

Gods, she was _tired_. And she was officially over it.

Maybe all that talk throughout the years in Vector was right. Maybe she wasn’t truly capable of love. The living embodiment of her arcane affinity for Blizzard magic.

Slumped against the dusty wall of an insane man’s house, Celes sobbed until her throat ached and her head throbbed. Her only solace was that there was no interruption. The old man stayed downstairs, and none of her friends came looking for her.

_Some friends_ , she thought bitterly, _that they didn’t come for me_.

Celes straightened her posture and raised her chin. No matter. She was made of sterner stuff. She didn’t need to lean on anyone, dammit.

Having pulled herself sufficiently together, Celes exited the house and was surprised to find Daryl sitting in the patchy brown grass of the desiccated front lawn.

Daryl stood and brushed the dirt off her pants, offering Celes a crooked smile. “Locke looked pretty shaken up. Edgar followed him.” She fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot, but her eye contact remained unbroken. “I knew you needed a minute, but after that… I thought you could use a friend.” She smiled, a fair imitation of her most rakish grin, underlain with concern. “Triad knows, you’ve been there for me often enough these past months.”

“Thank you,” Celes said quietly, accepting the hand Daryl offered her.  She was tempted to push past her public reserve and reach out for the hug she desperately craved, but felt such things were best saved for the privacy of the Falcon.  The warmth of the calloused hand wrapped around hers was a welcome comfort, and would suffice. 

“I think the guys already headed back to the Falcon. And if I’m wrong, fuck, they’re grown men, they can find their way.” Daryl squeezed Celes’s hand as they started walking out of town. “Let’s get back and see what we can scrounge up in the galley, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Celes said, glad to let someone else be the leader for a change. She was too emotionally drained at present to dictate their plans. Thankfully, she and Daryl had spent enough time together on the initial part of their trek that her friend seemed to sense that Celes needed a break from command, needed to follow rather than lead.

The walk back to the Falcon was bathed in a comfortable silence, borne of the mutual understanding that only can be sown by the seeds of peril and loneliness. The quiet susurration of the dead grass brushing over their legs was the only soundtrack.

When they got back to the Falcon and climbed up the boarding ladder, Celes saw no sign of activity. Everyone else must be below-decks. Well, that was just fine with her. The sun was starting to set, and she thought it was an apt metaphor - the curtain had fallen on Locke’s lifelong quest, the sun had set on another futile day in this world of ruin, and life would go on tomorrow.

But, for tonight, perhaps she could forget a while.

She could just be a friend, and not a retired General.

“Why don’t you rest a while?” Daryl suggested, dropping Celes’s hand. “I’ll go see what I can find for dinner.”

“Alright,” Celes agreed. She watched Daryl disappear below-deck, and then wandered aimlessly around the perimeter of the Falcon, ending up at the helm. If she inhaled sharply enough, Celes imagined she could taste Daryl’s scent on the air - coffee, oil, wildflowers - mixed with Setzer’s - scotch, also oil, sandalwood.

She envied her friends their close partnership, even as she was aware it was hard-won. They had defeated nearly insurmountable odds to find each other again. Celes held no illusions about finding such a match for herself. This wasn’t the time for romance to bloom, she had more important priorities to focus on.

Damned if she wouldn’t like to take a break from thinking about it, just for one night. Celes resolved to do just that. The sun had fully set, now, and her headache began to ebb with the ocular relief granted by burnt orange skies fading into darkness. A soft breeze caused golden tendrils to dance around the perfect ivory oval of Celes’s face as she meandered away from the helm, seating herself on the wooden deck-planks at the prow of the ship. Curled up on the smooth boards, she couldn’t quite see over the bulwark, but that was okay.

Celes knew she was facing forward.

A smile curved her lips unbidden when she saw Daryl approaching, the other woman’s features appearing softer than usual, bathed as they were in the pearly moonlight.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer,” Daryl said apologetically as she lowered to sit next to Celes. “Just sandwiches.”

Celes looked at her and smiled, slate eyes expressive as they melded to those of bistre. “You have plenty to offer.”

“Well, no shit!” Daryl’s natural instinct for using humor to break the tension of an emotional moment was unparalleled, and welcome. “I meant the food.”

The two women ate their simple fare companionably, making light conversation about all matter of nothing to pass the time. When they were finishing, though, Daryl pushed at the raw wound the afternoon had left cut across Celes’s heart.

“Locke was pretty fucking out of line.”

Celes blanched. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Daryl said bitingly, “to know that man needs to grow the fuck up and learn how to not misdirect his own grief into anger at his friends.”

Celes pursed her lips, considering her words carefully. When she spoke, her voice evoked glaciers. “He’s grieving.”

“Aren’t we all?” Daryl’s tone was exasperated. “Celes, sometimes you’re too understanding.” She leaned forward and rest a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay to be pissed. No one here but me.”

Celes laughed humorlessly. “I’ll save my anger for Kefka.”

Daryl shrugged. “I still think it’d be good for you to let off a little steam.”

Their conversation was interrupted, and Celes wasn’t terribly surprised to see Setzer walking across the deck to join them.

“Everyone’s turning in for the night,” he informed them. “Edgar suggested everyone stay on board rather than set up tents so we could get an earlier start.” He grinned. “Packed in pretty tightly, but we’ll make due.”

Celes nodded, and shifted her weight, preparing to rise. She was forestalled by Daryl’s hand on her forearm.

Daryl looked at Setzer and quirked a brow inquisitively, but when the pilot spoke, her words were statement, not question. “I think we’ll be okay up here.”

Setzer nodded assent to whatever silent question Daryl had asked with the upward lift of her honey-brown eyebrow. “Have a good night.” He brushed a kiss softly over Daryl’s lips, and gave Celes’s shoulder a squeeze before heading back down to join the rest of their party.

“If you want to talk, we can talk,” Daryl began, turning to give Celes her full attention. “If you want to rant, I’ll listen. If you want to be distracted, I’ll tell shitty jokes.” She grinned.

Celes found herself grinning back. “Honestly? I want to just _be_ for a while. I want to forget about our mission, forget responsibility, forget the end of the world.” Her tone grew rueful. “And then, perhaps, get a decent night’s sleep.”

“I could help you forget.” The words were accompanied by a hand resting gently on Celes’s knee.

The Magitek Knight felt her heart-rate increase, understanding exactly what Daryl offered. She yearned to spiral into the moment with abandon, but her sense of honor demanded further clarification. “But… Setzer?” 

“Doesn’t mind.” That hand slid up Celes’s thigh.

“Alright.” A whisper as delicate as a butterfly’s beating wings, and then Celes was in Daryl’s arms, their mouths fused together, bodies melded close.

“I shoulda grabbed blankets,” Daryl muttered against Celes’s lips before kissing her way down one side of the blonde’s neck.

“We can lay on our clothes,” Celes suggested, though half her words were consumed by a gasp, her breath hitching in her throat when Daryl’s teeth nipped at the base of her throat.

And so they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, I'm planning a side-fic to this one that will have a higher rating to flesh out my fade-to-black scenes like the one I ended this chapter on.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll try to write the next chapter in less than six weeks this time, lol <3


	32. Chapter 32

Setzer woke early, roused from slumber by the cacophony of the Figaro brothers’ snoring. This was a prime example of why he often took refuge out on deck, with Daryl… but he wasn’t begrudging his beloved and his friend their solitude.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t go see if they were awake. Even if still they slept, at least he’d be away from this fucking noise.

He climbed the ladder easily, hoisting himself onto the Falcon's deck with a practiced ease. The moment the fresh air buffeted his face, he felt more at peace. Sure, the air was too warm, and had the vaguest hint of rot carried on the breeze, but it was still better than the stagnant air belowdecks, air made ripe by the press of crowded bodies all night long.

They absolutely had to start staying at more Inns, or taking the Goddesses-blessed time to set up the tents.

A glance towards the prow revealed a lovely sight that caused the gambler’s lips to quirk in a crooked smile, tugging the line of a large scar on his cheek. Daryl and Celes were nestled in a pile of clothing, all pale limbs and tangled hair, brown and gold tresses tinged russet by the sunrise.

As loathe as he was to disturb them, Setzer imagined they’d appreciate a chance to dress before anyone else surfaced, so he moved quietly across the deck and tapped Daryl’s shoulder.  
When sleepy dark eyes blinked open to meet those of violet, he smiled. “Good morning, darling.”

Daryl made a noise that may have been an attempt to return the greeting, and snuggled closer to Celes’s warmth.

“The others won’t sleep much longer,” Setzer offered the warning. “If you don’t wish to explain yourselves, you may want to get dressed.”

His lover nodded her understanding, so Setzer walked off to begin a pre-flight check, busying himself at the helm to give the ladies privacy.

Before much longer, Daryl joined him, buckling her coat tightly against the winds they’d soon be riding. “Good morning.”

Setzer flashed her a teasing smirk. “We’ve already said that.”

“Yes, well, I’m actually coherent now,” Daryl rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the heads-up, by the way.”

Setzer nodded. He couldn’t resist asking, “How was it?”

Low laughter was Daryl’s response, eyelids falling flirtatiously half-shut, gaze shadowed by her eyelashes. “A lady doesn’t speak of such things.”

“We both know you’re not a lady.”

“True,” Daryl agreed with a roguish grin. “But Celes is.”

“That’s fair,” Setzer agreed. “I won’t pry. But I hope it was what you both needed.”

“It was,” Daryl murmured, sliding an arm around his waist and nestling close as the sun crested the walls of nearby Kohlingen.

Setzer scanned the deck and saw that Celes, fully dressed, armored, and looking as if she’d been up for hours, was working through sword forms with her runic blade, the steel glinting in the incandescent sunlight. No one else had emerged from below yet, and he enjoyed the calm before the conversational storm that would likely happen once everyone was roused and fed.

He and Daryl continued the morning’s pre-flight check, ensuring the Falcon was in tip-top shape for flight. As they were nearing completion with those tasks that could be accomplished on deck rather than in the engine room, people began spilling up the ladder.

The Figaro brothers were first, closely followed by Terra. Gogo was a moment behind the half-Esper, but Locke’s shaggy head didn’t emerge from below.

_Good_ , Setzer thought, perhaps uncharitably. _Let him sleep it off_. They were all aware of the brutal way Locke had verbally lashed out at Celes, and none were appreciative of the outburst.

Edgar called out, pulling Setzer’s attention from his thoughts. The pilot grimaced, seeing Edgar and Celes standing facing a half-circle made up of Sabin, Daryl, Terra, and Gogo. It seemed their _de facto_ leaders had decided it was time for the morning’s meeting, and they hadn’t even had coffee yet. Pity.

Suppressing a put-upon sigh, Setzer made his way over to the group, taking up a position at Daryl’s side.

Where he belonged.

* * *

As the conversation circled around and around, Sabin didn’t bother trying to hold back his aggravated groan. Enough talk! It was time for a plan of action.

“Why don’t we go check out that Coliseum?” he suggested. “I mean, we’ve checked off all the other points on our ‘to do’ list,” Sabin continued a bit irreverently. “We’re not ready to face Kefka yet, so I say we steer clear of that tower.” He shrugged. “What else is there to do, keep aimlessly flying around?”

“I do want to go to Narshe,” Terra said haltingly.

“And I want to stop at Jidoor,” Daryl put in.

Sabin held up both hands in a placating gesture. “And we will. But we’ve put off following the lead for weeks. If we’re gonna recruit more muscle, we need to start going to places more likely to hold fighters than the average town.”

“You’re not wrong, brother,” Edgar said after a moment. “It’s as good an idea as any. Celes?”

The Magitek Knight nodded. “Let’s see if there’s anyone worth recruiting, and we’ll save Narshe and Jidoor for another day.” Slate eyes cast around, meeting those of each person in turn. “Agreed?”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” a rough voice interjected, slurred with sleep and a likely hangover. Locke finally made his presence known, scowling at the golden-haired woman angrily. “Who the fuck made _you_ our leader?”

“Uh… we did?” Sabin said sarcastically. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve been back with us for, what, two days? The rest of us have been traveling for months, and its Celes and my brother that have held us together.”

Locke sneered. “I understand loyalty to your brother, but nothing good comes of following _her_.”

“You want to stop,” Daryl’s voice was clear and calm. When Sabin glanced at the pilot, he saw her spinning one of her daggers, rolling it along the back of her hand with a magician’s flourish that highlighted her dexterity with the blade. “Stop before you say something you can’t atone for.”

“You don’t fucking know me,” Locke spat. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“You want to be careful,” despite the lower pitch of Setzer’s voice, the timbre was a near-perfect match of his love’s serene but serious tone. “Choose your words with care, thief, as they may decide your fate.” No one would ever deny the self-styled Wandering Gambler’s dramatic flair.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Sabin burst out, shooting glares equally around. “We don’t have time for this whelkshit! We have a world to save, which means we need more help.” He directed his firm cobalt gaze on their newest party member. “If you don’t like the plan, stay on deck when we get there. But you gotta get over your personal issues, or you have to go.” He folded muscular arms across his wide chest. “We. Don’t. Have. Time. For. Your. Shit.”

Locke’s mouth gaped open and shut, open and shut, giving him the appearance of a fish out of water. “Fine,” he muttered petulantly after a long moment. “Whatever.”

“Okay, so that’s decided,” Edgar jumped in to forestall any additional arguments. “Terra, would you help me see to provisions? Daryl, Setzer, when can we depart?”

“Just need to finish the pre-flight check,” Setzer informed him. “Won’t take but an hour.”

“Wonderful,” Edgar acknowledged. “If anyone has any last minute business in Kohlingen, this is the time. Breakfast will be ready shortly. We depart in one hour.”

* * *

The Coliseum certainly was… lively. Terra couldn’t think of a better word for it. She hadn’t even truly imagined so many people had survived the end of the world, let again expected to find so many of them gathered in one place. A small shantytown had sprung up a short distance from the massive structure’s walls, a blend of Inn and village, housing the champions and the patrons of this unusual establishment.

She stayed close to the others, feeling a bit nervous amidst such a large crowd. Celes took point and Sabin was their rearguard; Terra walked side-by-side with Edgar, who occasionally patted her arm reassuringly.

The Coliseum was laid out quite simply. The entryway had booths for buying tickets to wager on the various matches, as well as a place to enter yourself into the competition. There was a small sitting area, but it was empty.

Everyone was crowded around the ring, watching the battles. Some shouted encouragement, some just seemed to yell for the sake of making noise. It was giving Terra a headache.

She wasn’t much judge of physical prowess, aside from certainty that her friends - particularly Celes and Cyan - were good with their weapons. But, as they weren’t likely to find any mages here, Terra did her best to scan the crowds, looking for anyone who seemed on the surface to be a good fit.

“Perhaps we should watch a few matches?” Edgar suggested. “That might help us see where the talent lies.”

“Good idea,” Celes agreed.

Terra folded her hands in her lap and cast emerald eyes anywhere but on the fighting. Truth be told, despite all the combat she’d been through, she had little stomach for sitting and watching it. How was this fun? How was this sport? She understood the merits of practicing, and took part in the same sparring drills all the Returners used to keep their skills sharp. But this was for… what? For money? For prizes? For glory?

If Terra never had to fight again, she thought that would be truly wondrous. So for these people fight by choice rather than from necessity fairly boggled the young woman’s mind.

So lost in her thoughts was she, that her eyes nearly flitted right past the figure of a man shrouded in dark linens. In fairness to Terra’s visual acumen, the man nearly blended in to the shade obscuring the far recesses around the ring.

“Shadow!” she gasped, drawing the attention of her friends.

The other honed in on the assassin more quickly, thanks to Terra’s direction.

“I knew we’d find at least one good recruit here,” Sabin said a bit smugly.

“I’m so happy he’s alive,” Terra breathed the words like a prayer. Another of their friends had, against all odds, made it through the cataclysm to the other side.

“Let’s catch him before he slips out,” Edgar suggested, and they all rose from their seats, circumnavigating the periphery until they drew near to the ninja’s corner.

Terra lay her hands on her friends’ arms one by one in a halting gesture. Twinned azure gazes filled with confusion as well as eyes of steely calm watched as Terra approached the mysterious man they had traveled with for so long, and yet barely knew.

“Shadow,” she said softly, a smile of pure joy lighting up her delicate features. “You’re alive!”

“As are you,” grave words, spoken in a voice rough with disuse.

“What’ve you been up to?” Edgar asked.

Shadow turned towards the king, face inscrutable behind his mask. “Getting stronger.”

Direct as always, Celes joined the conversation. “Come with us. We’re going for Kefka, as soon as our numbers are adequate.”

“You think to challenge the God of Magic?” Shadow’s voice was devoid of emotion, stark and chill.

“No,” Terra whispered. “We plan to defeat him.”

Silence fell over the motley crew for the length of several heartbeats.

“Very well.”

Terra brightened. “You’ll truly come?” She did her best to keep disbelief from her tone, but Terra had half expected this to turn into a negotiation as in the past. For Shadow to accept without naming a price was unprecedented.

“I give you my word.” Shadow stretched out a hand, and Terra reached to grasp it. He wrapped nimble fingers around her wrist, and she mirrored the clasp as best she could. “My skills are yours,” hidden eyes flitted between the four with so much intensity it was akin go a physical touch, “until the end.”

“At what cost?” Celes asked drily, clearly recalling how this had worked in prior cases.

“I saw Relm’s skull crushed by the destruction wrought by his madness. I will accept no payment for this task.” Shadow’s voice was a sibilant hiss, a rare hint of anger sharpening his tone.

Celes’s slow nod signaled her understanding and agreement.

“Interceptor, come,” Shadow commanded, breaking up the solemn moment. The familiar canine was instantly at his side. Terra mused it was almost as if the dog could appear from the aether like a summoned Esper.

“Let’s get back to the Falcon,” Sabin said. “The others are gonna wanna knew we found you.”

Spirits high, Terra followed her friends back towards the ship. The day was looking up, their number had increased, and they were one step closer to their goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the short side, but hey, Things Happened. <3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	33. Chapter 33

“I think Narshe is important,” Terra argued uncharacteristically, slim arms folded across her torso in a clearly defensive posture.

Edgar sighed. He really didn’t want to gainsay the woman he was growing to love, but, there were higher priorities at stake than a gutted mountain village.

“Why?” Daryl asked frankly.

Terra’s brow wrinkled as she sought the proper words. “I feel… called there. We’ll find something important in Narshe; I just know it.” Such vehemence shaped her words, that Edgar felt his reservations fall away.

“Okay,” he nodded, with a glance to Celes. When the Magitek Knight inclined her head in agreement, he continued to speak. “We’ll head for Narshe next.”

Their plan for the day decided, the Returners scattered as much as a group their size could on the deck of an airship. Daryl and Setzer went to the helm, of course. Sabin, Celes, and Gogo staked out the aft section for sparring practice. Terra and Locke honed in on Shadow, off to one side as per his norm, and Edgar decided to join that group. This time, he could even say his motivation wasn’t the lovely half-Esper woman. While Shadow wasn’t exactly a talkative fellow, Edgar hadn’t gotten much chance to catch up with the elusive ninja since he’d rejoined their number.

“Shadow, what else can you tell us about the Coliseum? Anyone else worth recruiting to our cause?” Edgar asked, stopping at Terra’s side.

The taciturn man shook his head in negation. “Some skilled fighters there,” he admitted. “But none with the heart to take on Kefka.”

Edgar nodded. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“I bet you won all kinds of treasure there,” Locke mused gleefully.

Edgar was glad to hear his friend speak up. Locke had been withdrawn since Kohlingen, and his argument with Celes. Understandable, to be sure, but it was nice to hear his voice holding a lively note for a change.

Shadow’s laugh was akin to the rasp of book-pages turning, dry and brief. “Nothing worth keeping.”

“I find that hard to believe, with people gathered from all over the world!”

Even with his mask in place, Edgar could almost feel the weight of the look Shadow slanted at Locke. “Such things are beneath me. I was there to train and grow stronger. _That_ was my reward.”

“Alright, alright,” Locke muttered, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I was just curious.”  
Edgar changed the topic, thinking out loud. “Perhaps you should go with us to Narshe, Locke. You know it well, and your skills might come in handy.”

“Sure thing,” the treasure hunter said agreeably. “We should probably stick to a small group, though. Those caves can get cramped quickly, and we wouldn’t want to risk a collapse.”

Shadow glanced between the other three and shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like you require my skills.” Thus said, the ninja walked away without a backward glance.

“Right,” Edgar agreed. “Maybe just the three of us?” He smiled whimsically. “It’ll be like old times, after you two cajoled me into leaving the safety of my castle to fight at your side.”

“You mean after Kefka tried to burn it to the ground,” Locke corrected slyly, causing Terra to giggle.

“That too,” Edgar’s voice was dry. “I’ll tell the others our plan.”

He went first to the helm, inwardly smiling at the sweet way the pilots clasped hands on the wheel. They accepted the update without question, so he moved on the others.

Celes seemed a bit hesitant. “Are you sure just the three of you will be sufficient?”

“Maybe we will, maybe we won’t.” Edgar shrugged fatalistically. “Locke’s right, though; those caves won’t withstand the lot of us. Between Terra’s magic and our fighting skills, I think we’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” Celes nodded reluctantly. “But we’ll stand ready to offer aid. After you disembark, we’ll lift off to keep a good view. Have Terra send up a Firaga if you need assistance.”

“Good thinking.”

* * *

When they walked into the town, both Locke and Edgar wanted to explore the buildings and look for survivors, but Terra was insistent. “We need to go the caves,” she pleaded. “Something’s waiting.”

“Hopefully not another dragon,” Locke said cheerfully as he led them towards one of the entrances to the warren of caverns surrounding the small village.

Edgar groaned. “I’ve seen enough dragons, thank you very much.”

With a cavalier grin, Locke continued, “Fortunately, the caves are too small to harbor a true dragon.”

Terra paid their banter little heed, so focused was she on the silent siren song calling out to her. On the fringes of her awareness she noticed Locke take point, opening the hidden entrance to the mines at the mouth of the city. She followed him, trying to hone in her unfocused vision on his head of sandy-blonde hair, partially obscured by a paisley bandana.

It was getting hard to see. Hard to think.

Hard to breathe.

With a luxuriant sigh, Terra allowed herself to let go and give over to her deeper self, her true self. Pink fire burned over human flesh until she was the flame incarnate, magenta tendrils whipping around her head from an unearthly wind neither of her companions could hear or feel.

“Uh… you okay there, Terra?” Locke asked a bit skittishly. He had never been altogether comfortable with her Esper form.

“Yesss,” she hissed softly, fiery eyes seeming to pierce the tunnel walls so intent was her stare. She raised one arm gracefully to point down a passageway. “Therrre,” she insisted, rolling the r liquidly.

“Best to listen,” Edgar advised, and Terra was pleased when Locke simply nodded and started walking down the indicated tunnel without argument.

She cast her senses wide, imagining her awareness as a large net like those she’d seen at the docks of South Figaro what seemed like ages ago. Terra could feel the monsters, and it was little effort to steer her small party away from the danger presented. She became aware of sentient intelligence, and steered them away from that too, for now - it was not that which called to her.

When their path lead them up to the top of the mountain, she felt a strong sense of deja vu. Surely she’d climbed this summit before? Yes; it was all coming back to her now. Terra remembered being here at the apex of the mountain when she, Locke, and their fellow Returners battled against Kefka and his Imperial troops. She had a blurry, discombobulated memory of being at this mountain _before_ , while under the command of the slave crown - but she wasn’t certain what all had happened during that time.

Vague memories surfaced of magitek armor and an escort of two Imperial troops. She remembered seeing an oddly beautiful, frozen creature, and then her companions didn’t exist any longer. The next memory was of waking up at Arvis’s house, and then escaping into the very mines she just traversed with her friends.

Skipping ahead, Terra had clearer memories of finding this being with her friends, after they defeated Kefka’s forces over a year ago, before the sundering of the world, before Kefka’s madness overwhelmed Gestahl on the Floating Continent to become the new world order. When Terra had first encountered this ethereal life form, it had sent her into madness… into reality. It had spawned her first Transformation into her true self, her Esper self.

That creature… could it be an Esper?

Choosing not to dwell on the unsettling vagueness of incomplete memories, Terra strode forward with determination, crossing the snowy pinnacle until coming to a small outcropping. There she found it, just as she half-remembered. Not even the amnesia wrought by the wicked slave crown was enough to erase this knowledge from her neural pathways.

_Hello_ , Terra thought. _Do you still live?_

The answering thoughts filling her brain were excruciatingly slow, and ponderous with age. _I do not live, young one. But I still exist_.

Inexorably drawn forward, Terra laid her palms flat against the massive chunk of ice, all cognizance of her friends, of the gusty winds, of the biting snow landing against her fiery skin fading away as she communed with Tritoch. For that was this Esper’s name, given to her along with so much more.

They shared memories, told each other their stories, their histories. Through the mindlink, Terra was able to watch her own life unfold as if on stage - she saw her birth, watched as Gestahl killed Madonna and stole her away, saw the horrors she was commanded to unleash while enslaved and forced to pilot the magitek armor.

But then she saw Locke, and Edgar, and the rest of her friends. She saw the life she made for herself, both before and after the breaking of the world.

Tears felt… unnerving against cheeks made of fire. But cry she did, the tears ephemeral and fading into steam by the heat she gave off.

Similar plumes of steam were rising from the places her hands were placed on the ice. She ventured another question, _Come with us?_

_Yes_ , that wise voice responded gently. _I think I shall_.

Terra allowed a bit of her magic to trickle through, and in moments the ice was completely dissolved. She took in the wonderful, terrible form of the Esper.

_You’re beautiful_ , Terra thought in amazement.

_Ward well my essence, young one, and restore balance_. Tritoch’s last words sank in as Terra watched it transform into magicite. As she knelt to collect the brilliant green stone, her ethereal otherself faded back into humanity. Terra took a moment to clasp the magicite in both her hands, feeling those parting words graven on her soul.

When she came back to herself from the meditative catalepsy, Terra was startled to realize that night had fallen. Locke and Edgar stood talking a short distance away. Rising a bit awkwardly with limbs tingling from holding one position for so long, Terra made her way over to her friends.

“Look,” she breathed the word as she showed them the magicite. “We have another ally.”

“That was what called you here?” Edgar asked. The question may have been a bit moot, but Terra nodded to confirm his suspicion.

“Yes. Now that I have it, I no longer feel anything here. Well, I did sense intelligent life down in the mines when we passed through earlier. Maybe we should investigate.”

“Maybe the Moogles survived!” Locke interjected in excitement. “Let’s go!”

“Hold up,” Edgar said dryly. “It’s night. Our friends are probably worried about us. We really should be getting back to the Falcon.”

Terra smiled to take any perceived sting out of her argument. “We have to pass through the mines to get back to the Falcon, Edgar, so we may as well investigate on our way.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, a dusting of pink highlighting his high cheekbones. “All right, let’s go.”

* * *

As they wound their way through the snakelike tunnels of the Narshe mines, Locke kept his eyes peeled. One never knew when they’d find treasure - or a monster. Sadly there was none of the former, but thankfully there was little of the later - just a few beasties the three friends were easily able to dispatch.

It wasn’t long at all and they found their way to a familiar cavern - the Cave of the Moogles.  
The last time Locke remembered visiting, it had been an underground village bustling with joy. Moogles of all ages and sizes dancing around chattering to each other in their language that seemed to humans to consist of only one word, but certainly must be more complex than that for these highly intelligent creatures to communicate with each other so effectively.

This time, the Moogles Locke saw were corpses, strewn about like broken toys painted brown with dried blood.

Interspersed with the small white bodies were Imperial troops. Clearly a massive conflict had taken place in the mines, and not too long ago since the bodies were largely whole; little decomposition had happened. To be fair, it was quite cold down here - perhaps that was preserving the macabre scene.

Locke’s lips thinned as he took in the grisly scene. He was aware of Edgar vomiting to one side, and Terra crying, but he kept his attention on their surroundings, just in case any threat lingered.  
“So you’re alive, kupo.” A familiar voice, weary rather than joyful, seeming aged more than the time that had passed since the world was torn asunder.

“Mog!” Terra gasped, relief eclipsing her horror for a moment.

“What happened here?” Edgar asked numbly, those brilliant sapphire eyes hazed over with sadness.

Mog scuttled forward - despite his short legs, the cheery Moogle had always seemed so light on his paws, as if every step was part of a greater dance, but now the music had forsaken him and he moved like someone already half dead. He sat himself on a small rock and regarded the three humans, fatigue etched into every line, his whiskers drooping.

“Kefka sent men to try and steal the source of our magic,” Mog began to explain. “I tried to tell them, kupo… it’s just our nature. We dance what we have seen, and we can make it happen again. No magicite, no tricks, nothing that can be learned by anyone who isn’t born to it.” A sob broke his voice, and Mog hung his head in dejection. “They wouldn’t listen.”

“A vicious battle broke out,” Mog continued grimly, beady eyes flitting between each of the three in turn as he continued to speak. “My kindred and I fought as best we could. No soldiers survived, but, of my tribe… only I remain.”

“Oh, no,” Terra whispered, moving to gather Mog into her arms.

The Moogle tolerated the embrace for a moment but then shrugged free. “I’ve been searching the tunnels for any others that may have escaped. The only other non-monster life I’ve found is that reclusive sasquatch. He’d never harmed a Moogle - in fact Umaro had helped us when we needed rocks moved - but he prefers to live in peaceful solitude.” Mog’s reedy voice broke again as he concluded, “I’m all alone.”

“No you’re not,” Locke argued. “You’ve got us.”

Mog’s laugh was bitter, and eloquent. “No offense, kupo… but you’re not Moogles.” His eyes shone with tears the proud dancer refused to shed. “I need to find others of my own kind. Surely some must have survived, even in this blasted shell of a world.”

“You should come with us,” Edgar said persuasively. “We can help you look for them, once we’ve defeated Kefka.”

“No,” Mog shook his head, pom-pom bouncing with the motion. “I need to stay here and explore further. Umaro will help me.”

A movement from the shadows resolved into a massive behemoth of a creature, all gray-white fur and fierce visage. The Returners put hands to their weapons cautiously.

“He won’t hurt you,” Mog muttered irritably. “He’s my friend.”

“We’re sorry,” Terra soothed. “Is there anything we _can_ do to help?”

“Just… defeat Kefka,” Mog said tiredly. “Ensure I have a world to search.”

“That’s a promise,” Locke vowed. “If you ever need us, leave a message at Figaro Castle.

Mog nodded and hopped off the rock, standing straight and proud. “I have my mission. And you have yours, kupo. Safe journey.” Thus said, he turned and strode off into the darkness, the sasquatch on his heels.

Locke looked to Terra and Edgar, assuming his face was as bewildered as they both appeared. “Well… it’s good to know he survived at least.”

“Indeed,” Edgar agreed. “Now, can we return to the Falcon?”

“Mog and Umaro must have been the life I sensed when I was tranced,” Terra mused. “So yes, there isn’t anything else here for us. Let’s go home.”

Locke managed to keep his laughter on the inside. Imagine, calling an airship home! Though he supposed it was, at least for Daryl and Setzer. As for himself, Locke had never had much use for a home. Why put down roots when there was so much world to explore?

They returned to the airship and reported what they had learned to their friends. Terra went off by herself to meditate over the Tritoch magicite, and the rest of their party debated what to do next.

“Jidoor,” Daryl said insistently for about the third time. “I want to see if my parents survived.” Her scowl dared anyone to argue. “Yeah, I know it’s nothing compared to the fate of the world, but…” she shrugged. “I want to know. Seeing as how the Falcon is mine, I think I get a vote in her next destination.”

Edgar frowned as if irritated at the thought of another delay sidetracking from their mission. Before he could speak up, Celes’s strong soprano filled the air.

“You do get a vote,” Celes averred. “Goddesses know, you’ve done plenty for… us.” A silent look passed between the two women, and both nodded in mutual accord. “We’ll head for Jidoor tomorrow. Tonight, let’s pitch our tents.”

“You do that,” Setzer drawled. “We’ll stay here to ready the Falcon.”

Daryl slung an arm around his waist, and slanted an inquisitive look towards Celes. “You’re welcome to stay and… help.”

Edgar’s face twisted in consternation as he started to sputter an argument. “I’m an actual machinist, she’s a Magitek Knight. Surely I could be of more assistance…” his words faded when he caught sight of the subtle flush highlighting Celes’s sharp cheekbones, noted the sly curve of Daryl’s lips, the gleam in Setzer’s violet eyes.

Locke smirked at his friend and bumped his shoulder against the king’s epaulet. He rolled his eyes expressively, disguising a chuckle beneath a cough. “I’ll go set up the tents.”

Celes lifted her chin and spoke to the air between the Figaro brothers. “I’m going to go for a run.”

Sabin perked up. “Me too!”

The friends dispersed for the evening, and Locke found himself sitting at a campfire alone while his companions were engaged in their own pursuits. Truth be told, he didn’t care what they were doing. He started into the flickering flames, reminded quite naturally of the Phoenix, of Rachel’s all too brief resurrection.

She had released him of his duty, but for what?

He had nothing left.

All that was keeping Locke going was a determination to help stop Kefka, and restore some semblance of balance to this ruined world. Maybe he didn’t care if he lived or died, but he didn’t want to see any more innocent lives snuffed out before their time. No more Rachels should fall to tyranny; no more Terras should be enslaved; no more Celeses should be embittered before their time.

Locke glared into the embers. Sure, he wasn’t the strongest, or good with magic, but he’d have his friends’ backs and they’d end that insane clown masquerading as a god.

The good guys always win… right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Special thanks to beta-bro for making this coherent!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to beta-bro for smoothing out the flow of this chapter.

Daryl stood at the helm in the pre-dawn hours, and everything was so still and silent that for an ephemeral moment, her gut clenched in panic at the sensation of loneliness that roiled through her like an errant air current under the Falcon’s wings. But then Setzer came on deck and she smiled, the memory of what was firmly eclipsed by the knowledge of what is.

She had friends. She had love.

She had _life_.

Sometimes it was still hard for Daryl to wrap her mind around the notion that she’d survived such a horrific accident only to lose herself. Even more surreal was the fact she’d been granted the boon of restoration from the quaking earth caused by Kefka’s rampant act of destruction.

Balance in all things, she supposed. Some good things had to come of the world’s breaking. While in the greater scheme of things regaining her memories was a speck of cosmic dust adrift in the galaxy, it was still something.

Maybe she should thank Kefka, before they killed him?

Nahh. That’d be over the top.

She climbed down the ladder and went into the engine room to check on the heart of her ship. Daryl tapped at the pressure gauges, checking their settings and nodding to herself when she confirmed the readouts were within normal parameters. Then she moved to tighten a few fittings, running her fingers over the cobbled together pipes and wires, seeking out any flaw that needed attention.  There was one troublesome pipe that liked to come undone at the aft juncture, but today it was behaving itself. She moved next to the fuel and water tanks, eyeing the levels and making a mental note to restock at their next opportunity. They were getting low on coal, and still had a ways to go before their journey would end. Daryl finished her pre-flight check and headed back on the upper deck just as Setzer completed his inspection of the propellers.  

“Everything seems to be in order.” Even now after months back together, the most mundane words shaped in that unintentionally sultry voice sent a shiver down her spine. Triad, she loved this man.

“Here too,” was her curt response, giving no voice to the love welling up inside of her, threatening to spill down her cheeks in hot tears that she really didn’t wish to explain this early in the morning. Instead of dealing with her turbulent emotions she did what she tended to do, and deflected, changing the topic to something easier to address.

“I think today we’re going to Jidoor,” Daryl called out to him.

Setzer’s only response was to allow a single white eyebrow to wing upward, tugging at one of his facial scars in a way that truly shouldn’t be as appealing as it was.

“Terra needed to go to Narshe, and we did. Give me a reason why can’t spend a day in Jidoor?” Daryl’s words were defensive and heated, and she folded her arms tightly across her body and lifted her chin to meet his eyes defiantly, never resenting his superior height so much as in this moment.

After a charged moment of silence, Setzer spoke carefully, “Well, it is your ship—”

“Damn right it is.”

“—I think it only fair you get a say in her flight plan,” he finished as if she’d never interrupted.

The arrival of their friends ended the all too brief conversation, and soon Daryl was wishing for the solitude that had made her so uncomfortable earlier.

They had spent the night at Figaro Castle, everyone except the two pilots opting to take advantage of the guest suites available and sleep on real beds. Daryl and Setzer had stayed on board for airship maintenance...and each other. To be fair, few things could pull Daryl away from her beloved vessel. She had felt momentarily torn when Celes politely declined her invitation to stay on the ship, but convinced herself that her friend was simply trying to be courteous and give her the time alone with her lover.

After all, Setzer had kindly given her that wonderful night the previous week with Celes.

With a snicker, Daryl wondered if she ought to offer the two of them a night together out of fairness. But, perhaps it was best not to make such an audacious suggestion unsolicited.

Mood brightened, Daryl tuned back in on the conversation, which had devolved yet again to arguing about the day’s agenda. Everyone had an idea it seemed, and they all talked over each other in a bid to be heard. Oh, for fuck’s sake. At least they weren’t arguing about who’s turn it was to make breakfast, and the merits of bacon versus sausage again.

“Hey!” she shouted, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Here’s the plan.”

Edgar shot her a flat look, and even Celes looked a bit irritated to be interrupted. Oh well. Daryl would happily follow where the King and General led them, but only if they fucking _led_ already.

“We’re going to Jidoor today,” Daryl announced.

“Why?” Celes asked, and Daryl was glad it was her friend who voiced the question, since she’d likely bite the head off anyone else who had dared.

“Honestly?” Daryl shrugged, and plastered a rakish grin on her face, a mask to hide the tumult of emotions churning through her core. “I want to see if my family survived.”

“Now, Daryl, we hardly have time—”

Daryl cut off Edgar with a hissed oath, clenching her fists as her sides so she didn’t smack the supercilious look off his face. “I already died once. I’d like to see my family before I die a second time.”

Well, she may not be as melodramatic as her beloved, but that certainly shut everyone up.

Casting her gaze across the group, she allowed her dark eyes to hesitate on Setzer and Celes a moment, before spinning on her heel and striding off to man the helm. She shouted over her shoulder, “Get your asses ready! We liftoff in a quarter of an hour.”

* * *

Terra waited until they had achieved what Daryl called ‘cruising altitude’ and then approached the fiery-tempered mechanic, a gentle smile bowing her lips and shining in her fathomless eyes. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to talk with you a while,” Terra murmured, laying a hand gently on Daryl’s bicep.

“Sure,” Daryl said agreeably. Apparently her foul temper had been cast aside now they were aloft. Terra could certainly understand that; she rarely felt more at peace than when she was soaring as her otherself.

Patiently, Terra waited as Daryl shouted for Setzer. Once she’d relinquished the wheel, the two women walked to the aft section where they could speak uninterrupted. Both sat cross-legged on the smooth deck-planks, Daryl crossing her arms and Terra folding her hands in her lap.

“So, what’s up?” Daryl asked fliply, but Terra had been aware all morning of her friend’s emotional tension, and hoped what she was about to offer would help.

“Tritoch - the magicite I was given in Narshe,” Terra began, “seems to hold the same elemental magics as my father, but more powerful. Given your affinity to Maduin’s spells, I thought you might like to focus on Tritoch next. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you since you’ve mastered all three elements; this would just take you to a higher strength in each.”

“And then there was the crazy-strong lightning I called by accident,” Daryl muttered caustically. “And you still haven’t taught me the most basic Cure spell.”

“I haven’t forgotten either of those things,” Terra informed her. “That’s one reason why I feel this would be smart. Once you’ve mastered Tritoch’s magic, I’ll start you on curative spells.” She held up a hand to forestall Daryl’s words when the pilot opened her mouth to argue. “I know you’re impatient to learn as much as you can, but healing magic is dangerous, and I’d prefer you get stronger with your offensive spells before moving on to something so challenging.”

“Why is Cure so dangerous?”

Terra considered how best to explain. “To attack something is easy.  You just need to aim your magic in the right direction. But to cure someone requires more focus, and more arcane strength.  You need a thorough understanding of human anatomy so that you can visualize the knitting together of broken bones, the mending of rent flesh.”  A gentle smile softened her lecturing tone. “Easier at this juncture to just use a Potion.”

Daryl nodded slowly, her eyes serious as she mulled over that information. “I suppose you’ll need this back, then?” she asked, touching the magicite she’d worn as a pendant all these long months.

“Probably best to only hold one at at time,” Terra said gently.

“Right,” Daryl said in a clipped tone, moving to untie the leather cord. She unwound it from around the magicite, and Terra could feel how reluctantly she let go of the gleaming green stone once it was in Terra’s hands.

“Here,” she offered Tritoch’s essence to the older woman along with an encouraging smile.

Terra watched Daryl take the gem, wrapping her cord around it until she was able to cinch it around her neck as she’d done with Maduin.

Daryl’s brows lifted in surprise. “This feels… intense.”

Terra nodded. “As I said, the potency of Tritoch’s elemental magic seems much greater than my father’s.”

“Good,” Daryl’s tone was dark. “We all need to power up for the fight ahead, yeah?”

“On another topic, I think going to Jidoor is wonderful idea,” Terra said sincerely. “If I had any left living, I would certainly wish to see my family again before… well, before the end.”

Daryl sighed quietly. “I know it’s selfish, but I just keep wondering if they made it.” Her smile was cynical, eyes as bitter as the dark brewed coffee they were so close to in hue. “I’m assuming they didn’t, but maybe I’ll be wrong.”

Terra took her hands and squeezed warmly. “I hope you are.”

* * *

Setzer’s lips were set in a grim line as Daryl skillfully landed the Falcon a safe distance outside Jidoor’s city limits. He hadn’t been back since, well… when he’d come through here with his friends, before the world went to shit and he drank a year away. He wasn’t entirely pleased to be back. Setzer had little love lost between himself and his family. Where Daryl’s parents had been condescendingly tolerant of her uncouth notions about science and technology - at least until they realized she had no intention to put it aside for the husband they chose her - Setzer’s had all but disowned him. He hadn’t been back since he first took flight: what reason was there to dally on the ground when the sky was his to explore? He preferred to wait for Daryl on their hill outside of town on the occasions when she felt the need to go reconnect with kith and kin.

Setzer was done with the lot of them.

He felt like he’d throw up. Had her parents survived?

Had his?

With a muttered curse, he moved in the familiar rhythm, locking down the Falcon in tandem with his partner. They circumnavigated the deck until all was ready for their departure.

“I really don’t like the idea of leaving her unattended,” Daryl admitted.

“I’ll stay,” Locke offered. “Nothing for me in Jidoor.” His cobalt eyes were bleak in the brief moment they met Setzer’s visage before the thief strode to the prow, his back to the group. Setzer knew the adventurer hadn’t been sleeping well, and frankly, thought better of him for it. He shouldn’t be sleeping well after the shit he’d pulled.  Hopefully he was on track to being a team player again.

“Anyone nonessential should stay behind,” Celes decided. “We don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

Setzer saw Sabin wave his hand in the air to get Celes’s attention, and rolled his eyes at the energetic monk’s youthful demeanor.

“Isn’t everyone except Daryl and Setzer unnecessary? You’re gonna send them alone?” Sabin’s mien grew more serious, brows drawing down over sapphire eyes and mouth flattening in a hard line. “What if there’s trouble?”

Celes sighed. “I worded that poorly. My apologies.” She smiled a bit sheepishly, and Setzer admired the way it brightened her stormy eyes. “Perhaps four of us should go, while the others remain and train.”

“Do we get a vote?” Daryl asked archly, waving a hand between herself and Setzer.

Setzer laughed. Ah, what a woman she was! “I think Celes and Sabin should join us,” he suggested.

“Why?” Edgar asked suspiciously. Well, maybe he was just curious, but Setzer tended to assume the worst of people. It was what life had taught him to do.

In truth, he’d made his choices on a whim - Celes was Daryl’s friend, and he assumed Daryl would welcome the support no matter which way this venture turned out. And Sabin would be good in a fight if they did have any trouble, not to mention Setzer had noticed the way the two blondes had been stealing admiring glances at each other when they thought themselves unobserved.

Setzer lifted one wiry shoulder in a careless shrug. “Celes is one of our leaders. She could gather intel. Sabin’s good in a fight, if we do run into any trouble.”

Edgar nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll lead the others in battle drills.”

“Please don’t blast holes in my bird,” Daryl interjected. “Maybe go spar on the ground, yeah?”

With a wink, Edgar waggled his index finger in the space between them. “Ah, ah, ah; I never miss.”  His grin was roguish. “But I suppose practicing on land would be more prudent. Gogo, fetch the practice dummies, if you would.  I want everyone to collect their weapons and meet me on the field in five minutes.”

After a few more minutes of planning and good-natured jibing, the parties split ways. Setzer followed Celes towards Jidoor, his feet dragging in stark contrast to the rapid thundering of his heart.

“Love?” Daryl spoke quietly at his side. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he answered her honestly. “You?”

“Not really,” she sighed, reaching to entwine their calloused fingers tautly. “I’m not sure which I hope for more… to find them alive, or spared the fate of a life in this ruined world.”

“We’ll know soon,” was all Setzer could muster up, squeezing her hand as they walked quickly towards the city.

Jidoor was much as he remembered - too big, too noisy, too stifling. Oh, how he longed to go back to the Falcon and take to the skies, but Daryl needed this, and he needed Daryl. Setzer would persevere, for her sake.

There was very little he _wouldn’t_ do for her sake.

Daryl took the lead, Setzer and Celes flanking her and Sabin at their rear. Setzer picked his way through the bustling throngs with the subconscious skill of one who’d grown up in a larger metropolitan area, noting Daryl and Celes were similarly cutting through the crowds, though Sabin seemed a bit timid. Setzer supposed if he was as large as the massive, muscle-bound monk, he might also use more caution.

As they moved deeper into the city, Setzer was amazed to see how little structural damage had befallen Jidoor. A couple houses looked abandoned, but still in good order - most likely, the residents had died, and no new tenants had moved in to fill the void. It didn’t take them long to reach Daryl’s family home, and Setzer’s heart sank when he saw it was similarly shuttered and deserted. They hadn’t made it, then.

He gave Daryl some space, watching as she folded in on herself fractionally, her shoulders pulling in and knees going slack. Setzer saw her bow her head, her windswept brown ponytail spilling over the curve of her shoulder to obscure the line of her jaw. He knew if he could see it, it would either be quivering or clenched.

As he continued to observe her from a pace away, he saw her posture stiffen and unbow. She tossed her hair back behind her head and her face was closed down, those vibrant eyes dimmed and distant.

“I guess that answers my question,” Daryl’s voice was hollow.

“Daryl…” No words followed Celes’s salvo, as the Magitek Knight fell back to give her friend the space to mourn.

Setzer stepped closer and gripped her hand again, tightly enough to whiten his knuckles and cause his lover to flinch.

She pressed their hands together even tighter, and he could feel the tremors coursing through her body and running along her arms. Daryl was practically vibrating with her need to drop her guard and let out her emotions - whether she’d scream or cry, Setzer wasn’t certain, but she needed _something_ , dammit.

“Maybe we can find someone who knows more,” Sabin piped up unexpectedly.

“More about what?” Celes asked, sounding a bit cross.

“Daryl’s family,” Sabin replied with a shrug. “That’s why we came here after all.” His gaze shifted to meet Setzer’s violet eyes, and the gambler kept his expression serene even as he inwardly steeled himself. Sabin, ever the optimist; Setzer already knew what the heir to Figaro was about to suggest.

“Weren’t you from here too?” Sabin seemed to have no idea how hard his question rocked Setzer to the core; but then, how could he? Setzer had never been forthcoming about his past. “Maybe your family’s still alive.”

“That’s not important,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “Your previous suggestion had merit, however. Why don’t you and Celes gather information? Daryl and I will wait here.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Celes inquired gently.

“I think I know what’s best for Daryl right now.” Setzer tried to keep his voice calm, but ire was encroaching. He was fairly certain Celes didn’t mean to imply that she’d know better how to help Daryl than he himself, but that's how his snarled brain interpreted it on an emotional level.

“Daryl can speak for her fucking self,” the woman in question spat the words harshly. “You all can go do whatever you want. I’m taking a walk.” Thus said, she strode away too quickly for anyone to get in a word.

“Oookay,” Sabin dragged out the vowel annoyingly, to Setzer’s mind. “What now?”

Both of the others looked to Setzer and he managed to quell the nascent laughter bubbling up. Goddesses grant that they not put him in charge, for fuck’s sake. “We gather information and regroup here in an hour.” The trio exchanged nods, and Setzer watched Celes and Sabin head towards opposite ends of town. He wasn’t worried for their safety; both could take care of themselves. He was a little concerned for Daryl, but moreso for her mental state than any danger. He’d see the way she wielded those daggers, not to mention the magic she’d been taught.

Setzer begin to walk, not really mindful of where his feet carried him. He supposed with how the day was shaping up, it shouldn’t have surprised him to find himself standing outside the Gabbiani estate. From the looks of things, _someone_ lived there - whether or not it was his blood kin was still up for debate.

Well, it wouldn’t be for long. Squaring his shoulders, Setzer marched up to the doorway and pounded his fist against the massive oaken door.

It creaked open nearly instantly - he supposed the house windows, after all - and he saw the wrinkled face of a family retainer who’d already been ancient before he’d left home all those years ago.

“Master Setzer?” the old woman gasped, jaw hanging open a moment.

“Just Setzer, please, Lini,” he pleaded, giving her what he hoped was a charming smile.

“Oh, look, you’re all grown up!” she chattered, stepping aside to allow him to enter and shutting the door behind him. “What happened to your face?” A frown pulled at the lines etched into her ancient face. “No matter, no matter; it’s just a wonder you’re alive, it is! A miracle!”

“Are mother and father in residence?” he asked politely. Where else would they be? But he remembered his manners, even if he hadn’t used them in so long in this setting that they’d grown a bit rusty.

“They’re entertaining presently,” the maid responded regretfully. “But I’m sure they’d welcome the interruption! Why, it’s been so long, won’t they be surprised?”

“Don’t bother.” He regretted the rudeness the instant the words left his lips, but once spoken you couldn’t take them back. Ducking down, he offered the elderly woman a gentle hug. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said with sincerity lacing his tone, and then he left, ignoring her protesting words.

Once outside he resumed wandering the Jidoorian streets. Of all the fucking irony. Daryl’s family, beloved if estranged, had been wiped out. His family, with whom he shared a long-standing mutual animosity, had survived.

Fucking Kefka. Fucking Triad. Fucking _world_.

He found Daryl standing by a small pond, staring blankly at the gently rippling surface. Setzer stopped beside her, nudging her hand with his but leaving the decision up to Daryl. When she wound her fingers around his, she began to cry quietly. From behind, you’d never know it; her shoulders didn’t shake, and she stood motionless. The tears fell without a sound, pouring down her windburned face like unrelenting rain, soft but inexorable.

“It’s better this way.” His heart ached hearing the finality wrapped in grief encloaking her timbre. “They don’t have to live in this blasted land Kefka’s given us. They’ll never have—” no longer able to maintain the composure she strove for, Daryl’s words broke on a sob, and she turned to bury her face in the hollow of Setzer’s throat.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, and he leaned to murmur reassuring words in her ears that he tried very hard to believe in. But it was hard to feel any sense of optimism when things continually went to shit on a daily basis. At least they had a plan; they had a purpose. Now that the team was as assembled as it was ever gonna get, Setzer imagined it wouldn’t be long before they took on Kefka and put an end to things - one way or another.

As Daryl slowly pulled herself back together, Setzer saw Celes and Sabin approaching. He met their eyes and shook his head sharply. No, not yet; the last thing Daryl needed was for others to see her lost to her grief.

“It’s okay,” she said, surprising him. “They can join us. I’m done.” She unwound herself from him and wiped her eyes with her sleeve before standing straight and turning to meet their friends’ eyes solemnly. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing about your family,” Celes’s voice was matter-of-fact, but not unkind. “However, we heard interesting rumors about the Auction House.”

“Seems they sell an awful lot of ‘fireheart emeralds’,” Sabin added.

“Oh, shit,” Daryl breathed, and Setzer was glad that this new mystery would give her something else to focus on for a time.

“Most likely, they don’t know what they truly are,” Celes continued. “Probably think them to simply be pretty baubles to collect. But we should check it out.”

“Should we go back for Terra?” Setzer asked. The half-Esper was the closest thing to a magicite expert their group had, so certainly she’d be of use.

“I don’t want to waste that much time,” Celes said, pursing her lips in thought. “Unless…” She turned to Sabin. “Would you mind running back to the ship and sending Terra?” Her grin was unexpected and bright; clearly some bonding had occurred between the Magitek Knight and the monk. “I’ve seen the speed you can put on. We’ll monitor things here.”

“Gotcha,” Sabin nodded agreeably. “Good luck!”

Once he’d sprinted off, Daryl let herself sag against Setzer’s side. He could see the compassion shining in Celes’s eyes, and was glad Daryl had a friend she could relax her defenses around.

“They’ll never know,” Daryl murmured in that empty, heart-wrenching timbre she’d used before.

Setzer looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate, and saw Celes did the same.

“They’ll never know I survived.” Daryl’s breathing was growing ragged again; clearly she was fighting back another deluge. “I just wish they could have known.”

“The Espers survive death as magicite,” Celes said quietly. “Perhaps something of our kind lives on as well, and they _do_ know.”

Setzer startled at the whimsical notion from a woman he knew to generally be rather grounded in reality. Wide violet eyes shifted from the sight of his beloved to regard the former General speculatively. Maybe he’d misjudged her, or taken her measure too quickly. Well, there’d be time to rectify that assuming any of them survived the oncoming war.

“Maybe,” Daryl agreed on a sigh, reaching to pull Celes to her other side.

They stood that way for a time, Daryl book-ended by their hugs, until Setzer felt the tension finally begin to drain from Daryl’s taut form. When she lifted her eyes to meet his again, a hint of their usual fire had returned.

“I suppose we should get to the Auction House, before all those ‘pretty green stones’ get bought by someone who isn’t us,” she said with forced cheer.

Setzer nodded, and looked to Celes, who was similarly assenting in the same nonverbal manner. Since he remembered the way, Setzer turned and began to lead them towards the structure - though truth be told, the building was so ridiculously massive, even a newcomer to Jidoor could find it without effort; certainly the goal of the proprietors when it’d been constructed.

He noticed, but didn’t remark upon, the fact that Daryl’s other hand was still clasped in Celes’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	35. Chapter 35

It didn’t take Terra long to fly from the Falcon to Jidoor. She almost succeeded at ignoring the townsfolks’ terrified screams when she landed in a swirl of rosy flames. Standing for a moment, she resembled nothing so much as a majestic work of art - statuesque and arresting in her arcane splendor.

The moment passed, and Terra exhaled slowly, allowing her human guise to reassert itself as she did so. Ironically, that seemed to frighten the Jidoorians even more, and Terra quickly found herself alone in the city plaza.

With a rueful shake of her head, she suppressed the flare of dismay at how people reacted to her Esper guise. Oh, well. It seemed her fate was to be feared - the vague flashes of memory she had retained from her time with the Empire were largely comprised of civilians and soldiers alike running in terror from her flaming onslaughts as she chugged onward in her Magitek armor, an unstoppable juggernaut.

It didn’t take her long to find the Auction House, since it dwarfed every other structure in town. 

Her nose wrinkled as she took in the over-the-top lavishness of the structure. Some of the construction seemed to be relatively new, and Terra frowned as the idea of money being spent on such frivolities instead of helping people. Goodness knew, in this broken world, there were so many in need of help. Her thoughts strayed to her children, as they often did. Terra resolved to request one last trip to Mobliz before the end. Daryl was right: they needed to make the time to see their loved ones, before taking on Kefka.

Arriving at the Auction House, Terra found her way inside barred by a guard. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, sounding entirely unapologetic. “Auction in progress. You’ll have to wait here until it’s done.”

“Very well,” she agreed, outwardly serene though inwardly she was none too pleased at the delay. If these ‘fireheart emeralds’ were truly magicite - and what else could they be, with that description? - she wanted to retrieve as many as she could as soon as possible.

Terra waited with as much patience as she could muster, and watched the people slowly resume filling the plaza. They seemed so untouched by the tragedy that had struck the world. Most of them wore rich clothing; all looked well-fed. She felt another flare of anger and blushed when she realized tiny flames had begun flickering at her fingertips. Folding her hands at her waist, Terra took a few deep, calming breaths. It wasn’t the Jidoorians’ fault that Kefka had devastated other areas of the world so completely. But she did think they could have at least send aide. Was this the way of the new world? Isolating yourself to your city, keeping your head down, and hoping not to attract the Light of Judgement?

Tears pricked at Terra’s eyes, but she blinked them back as the guard announced a new auction would be starting shortly. This was her chance.

She walked through the massive double doors and began combing the crowd for her friends. Fortunately with Setzer’s height, his white hair stood out like a beacon, immediately catching Terra’s attention. She made her way timidly through the crowd. The people were crammed so closely together she was unable to cross the room without brushing against too many strangers. By the time she reached her friends, Terra was trembling and feeling nauseous.

Her friends seemed to sense her discomfort, bless them. They opened a space for her to stand within the triangle they created with their stance, and she offered them each a tremulous smile in turn.

“I came as quickly as I could,” she murmured apologetically. “I wasn’t allowed to come in until the last auction had finished.”

“You didn’t miss much,” Celes said dryly. “They were selling fragments they claimed were part of the Blackjack.”

“As if I’d use the wood of the ash tree to build my ship,” Setzer muttered darkly, balefully eyeing the throng of bidders. “What a bunch of chocobo shit.”

Terra saw Daryl pat the man’s arm placatingly and giggled, enjoying the moment for what it was before it passed, and they got back down to business.

“Alright, folks! We’ve got a treat for you today!” the auctioneer crowed, spreading his arms dramatically as he walked back to the podium. “Up for bid next…” he trailed off dramatically as a man carried out a locked chest. After it was placed at center stage, the auctioneer made a show of finding the correct key on a massive key-ring, opened the chest with a loud ‘click’, and then reached within. He rummaged around as if having trouble finding that which he sought, but by the gleam in his eyes, Terra knew it was all part of the show.

In a rush he stood, holding his hand high overhead and pacing the edge of the stage so everyone could see his prize. “I offer you… _a fireheart emerald_! Do I hear one thousand gil?”

“One thousand!” a man called, raising a paddle in the air to signal his bid.

“Two thousand!” a familiar voice countered, immediately drawing the Returners’ attention.

“Could that be…?” Celes trailed off, leaning forward for a better view.

“I have two thousand, can I get three? Three thousand gil for a gorgeous fireheart emerald!”

“Ho ho ho,” a brassy-haired noblewoman chortled. “There’s nothing I can’t buy. Three thousand!” she screeched, raising a lace fan overhead.

“Five thousand,” the recognizable baritone barked, causing a surprised murmur to roil through the crowd.

“Oh! I have five, five thousand gil for this rare stone!” the auctioneer crowed. “Look at it folks! See how the facets shimmer in the light, as if it’s alive! Can I get six thousand!” he ended on a roar.

“Six thousand!” Terra saw Setzer raise his eyes, and figured that as this was his hometown, perhaps he recognized the bidder. When the gambler’s brows drew down in a scowl, she decided this was not the time to ask.

“Seven!”

“Seven and a half!”

“Eight!” 

“Oh, fine people, you humble our establishment! I hear eight thousand gil,” the auctioneer’s voice was crafty, oily. “Going once… going twice…”

A figure stood up in the front row, but Terra was too far back to see clearly. She could tell he was a tall man, broad shouldered and gray haired, but that was about it.

“Ten thousand gil,” the man declaimed. “That stone is mine now, I should think.” Terra noted the voice matched the one Setzer had reacted to so strongly moments ago; indeed, the pilot’s face was twisted in a pained grimace.

“SOLD!” the auctioneer screamed with alacrity, as if wanting to seal the deal before the bidder could change his mind. “Thank you, good sir; you are a gentleman of truly discerning taste!” 

Clearing his throat loudly, he continued, “That’s all for today, folks! Come back tomorrow to see what new marvels we have to offer you!”

Terra stayed in the huddle formed by her friends as the crowd filed out.

“Setzer, you seemed to recognize the bidder who won,” Celes said directly.

A bitter laugh bubbled forth from the pilot, and Daryl looked up at him with concern. “You could say that. He’s my father.”

A gold hairpin could have been heard hitting the floor, so profoundly complete was their silence after that statement.

“I think,” Terra began cautiously, “I recognized a voice, too.”

Celes nodded curtly. “Me too, Terra.” She sighed. “I hate to do this, but we need to split up. “Terra and I will go confirm our suspicion. Setzer and Daryl, keep tabs on the… winner,” she said diplomatically.

“He’ll probably just go home to gloat,” Setzer muttered darkly.

“Okay; we’ll follow you there as soon as we can,” Celes confirmed. “Terra, let’s go!”

Terra grabbed Celes’s hand so she wouldn’t lose her as they merged into the herd of people spilling out from the Auction House. She was peripherally aware of Daryl and Setzer splitting off in a different direction, but lost sight of them almost immediately.

“There!” Celes snapped, dragging Terra to the right.

The diminutive half-Esper increased her pace, trying to keep up with the long-legged Magitek Knight. As they closed in on their target, her face lit up in a beaming smile. Before Celes could speak, Terra burst out cheerfully, “It _is_ you, Cyan!”

Cyan Garamonde, samurai of the Kingdom of Doma, seemed to have done well over the last twenty months since the cataclysm. His face was scored by new lines, and his eyes had a weight to them Terra didn’t recall seeing before. To be fair, he’d always been a solemn man - how not, when they met him as his homeland was poisoned and razed to the ground by Kefka and an Imperial legion? But his heart was true, and Terra felt her spirits lift with the knowledge that another of their friends had survived. Running a quick tally in her head, she realized Cyan had been the last unknown - all of their party was now accounted for, one way or another.

Her smile faded with the reminder that some were lost for good. But nothing could be done for that now. Perhaps when all this was done - for Terra had to believe they would defeat Kefka, they would restore the light to this Triad-forsaken darkness - perhaps then, they could do something in memorial.

“Of course thou wouldst survive,” Cyan said dryly as he met Celes’s eyes. “Never in all my years have I met a warrior with a greater penchant for survival.”

Celes grinned, looking past the shadow of unresolved conflict in his words. “It’s good to see you too, old friend.”

“Yes, it is,” Terra interjected, giving him a sunny smile.

“And you,” Cyan admitted gruffly.

“We don’t have time to catch up now,” Celes said in a rush. “We need to catch up with Setzer and Daryl.”

“Then thou dost chase the magicite buyer as well?” Cyan asked, one gray-streaked bushy brow arching.

Celes nodded.

“I’m not surprised. I knew if I simply boded my time here, thou wouldst find me.” His smile clearly illustrated how pleased he was to have been right. “I haven’t been able to pin down the man who buys the magicite.”

Celes began to walk, and Terra and Cyan were quick to follow.

“It’s Setzer’s father,” Terra explained to Cyan as she trotted along, trying to keep pace with the fighters.

She saw his lips tighten. “I am sorrowed by this news, but it changes not my plan. I must apprehend this knave, and discover what he does with all this magicite he hast collected.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan!” Celes called over her shoulder. “Keep up!”

The mansion before them must be where Setzer grew up, Terra thought as Celes stopped before a massive home. The former general strode to the door and knocked. A harried looking old woman answered, immediately starting to fret.

“Oh my, oh my; are you Master Setzer’s friends? He and his father are quarreling something fierce,” she wailed, grabbing one of Celes’s arms in gnarled fingers. “Me, I’m just marveling at the miracle of Setzer - and Daryl! she was said to have crashed! - surviving, but the master is so angry,” she wrung her hands as she babbled. “Quick, go! Go!”

As the maid stood aside, the three hastened within. All they had to do was follow the shouts and they saw Setzer facing off against a man Terra would have immediately known to be his father - sure, the older man’s hair was a true gray, not the brilliant silver-white of the gambler’s, and his face was smooth in contrast to his son’s scarred visage, but Terra figured she now had an idea of what Setzer might look like in twenty years.

If they lived that long.

She saw Daryl standing to one side, somehow simultaneously looking angry and on the verge of laughter. What a peculiar woman.

“But what are you doing with them?” Setzer snarled, stalking forward until he was practically nose to nose with his father. “Where are they?”

“I told you!” the elder Gabbiani roared in frustration. “I obtain them for a private buyer.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know! I leave them at the drop point, and he sends me my payment!”

Terra’s eyes bounced back and forth as she followed the argument.

“Then you’re gonna take us there,” Daryl interjected, sliding away from the wall she’d been lounging against.

Terra was surprised at how quickly her friend’s voice doused the argument.

“Why would I do that?” the elder man scoffed, turning to face the pilot with a sneer.

“Because if you refuse, we’ll kill you,” Celes said evenly. When he turned to face her, she rest a hand on the hilt of her Runic Blade meaningfully.

Cyan moved to flank Celes, gripping the butt end of his Masamune.

Reluctantly, Terra walked to Celes’s other side, calling flames to dance around her hands.

Daryl spun one of her daggers as she spoke, “So? What’ll it be?”

“Fine,” he ground out after staring at his son for a long moment. “I’ll take you there at dawn.”

“Now,” Setzer demanded. “We don’t have the time to dally.”

“We can’t go outside the city at dark!” his father insisted vehemently. “That’s when the truly fearsome monsters come out!”

“I’d be more afraid of us than the dark, old man,” Daryl taunted before resheathing her dagger with a flourish.

Celes held up one slim hand in a gesture for silence. “No, he’s right. We shouldn’t risk ourselves unnecessarily.”

A sly light entered the elder man’s eyes, and his voice was overflowing with persuasive charm when he addressed Celes. Terra again noted the resemblance to Setzer, though the gambler’s charm was more authentic and playful, whereas his father’s was… disconcerting.

“I’ll secure rooms at the finest inn Jidoor has to offer,” he said magnanimously. “I’ll take you there myself.”

A disbelieving chuckled rasped from Setzer’s direction. “Do you think we’re that stupid? We’re staying here.”

“Right,” Celes agreed. “We’ll sleep in shifts.” She leveled a flat stare at the man of the house. “We’ll need two rooms. Show me to them, and have someone bring us provisions.”

Terra watched the two leave the room, and turned to her friends with wide eyes. This had all taken such an unexpected turn. She saw the pain haunting violet eyes, but hadn’t the slightest idea what to say; before today, she hadn’t known any of Setzer’s family had survived, and it seemed that neither had he. Daryl also looked distraught - Terra’s heart panged as she realized that her errand to find her own kin must have ended in heartbreak.

At a loss for how to help her grieving friends, she turned her attention to Cyan. “What have you been doing all this time?” she asked curiously.

“First, I sought out Doma, but there’s… nothing left,” he said gravely. “I began to traveling the world, hoping to find you lot. When I heard rumors of these so-called ‘fireheart emeralds’ I made my way here almost a year ago. I knew eventually thou wouldst follow if thou still numbered amongst the living.”

He leaned forward, laying a gentle hand on Terra’s forearm. “What of thou, and the others?”

As succinctly as possible - and leaving out the more personal details - Terra brought him up to speed on their varying adventures, both apart and as they regrouped.

When Celes returned to the parlor, they arranged their watch shifts for the night.  Terra had third watch, so she followed Celes to the guest quarters assigned to their group to try and get some sleep.  As she lay in the truly sumptuous bed assigned her for the night, she couldn’t help but wonder: how many magicite had already been sold? Where were they now? Could they be recovered?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full credit goes to beta-bro for coming up with 'fireheart emeralds'. His thanks are the three instances of fan-service callbacks I worked into this chapter. It's possible I already credited him last chapter, but I don't mind crediting him twice.
> 
> We're getting near the end, folks. Are you excited? I'm excited. <3 <3


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-bro joined the dark side! Now I can credit him properly: beta'd by [Forkbeard](http://archiveofourown.org/users/forkbeard), and all the remaining errors are my own!

Daryl was too keyed up to go directly to sleep after that confrontation, so it worked in her favor to have been assigned the first watch. Between her sorrow at confirming her suspicion that her parents no longer lived, and the discovery that not only had Setzer’s family survived but her father was involved in the magicite black market, she had entirely too much on her mind to tumble into slumber. Setzer had been paired with her - bless Celes and her compassionate foresight - but her lover hadn’t wished to talk. He had spent their watch standing and staring balefully outside a large window with a view of the city plaza, still bustling with commerce despite the late hour.  

When Celes relieved them - taking the middle watch by herself, and who would dare question that decision? - Daryl had thought perhaps in the privacy of their assigned quarters, Setzer would open up. However the gambler had climbed into bed fully dressed and been snoring in minutes. She listened for a while and eventually admitted that either the slumber was authentic, or he was doing a really good job of fooling her - and Triad only knew, if he was trying that hard, she’d honor his ruse.

She lay in bed and rolled on her side, facing away from Setzer so that if he did awaken, he wouldn’t see the pain held by brown eyes, the tears winding in silent trails down her windburned cheeks.

Daryl tried to focus her thoughts on the next day’s mission. Hopefully they’d glean enough intel from being shown the drop point that they could put a stop to the magicite trade - maybe they could even obtain some for themselves. While it seemed likely that some rich person with more money than they knew what to do with was collecting the stones for the sake of owning them, their party had actual need of them.

They’d need all the fucking firepower they could get to have a shot at defeating Kefka.

The next day dawned brightly enough to rouse Daryl from the sleep she managed to grab, and she swore softly under her breath. Setzer was still dead to the world, so she tossed back the blankets, smirking when his curse nearly mirrored her own.

“Good morning, love,” she said in considerably better humor than she’d been in before.

“There is nothing good about it,” he muttered crossly, causing her to laugh.

“I’m gonna go find food. I suggest you get moving.” With that, Daryl made her way back to the parlor they’d congregated in the night before. Terra and Cyan were already there, of course, since they’d had third watch. Daryl was equally unsurprised to find Celes had beaten her there - the Magitek Knight had probably gotten even less sleep than Daryl had. Setzer followed a scant minute behind, and in short order the group was breaking their fast. It was a rather more solemn and silent meal then was customary since Setzer’s father had joined them for it, and not a soul seemed willing to try and make idle conversation.

At least it went quickly, and then they were on their way. Celes took point beside their unwilling informant with Terra and Cyan following closely behind. Daryl thought it wise that she and Setzer bring up the rear - no need to force her partner any closer to his estranged father than necessary.

After walking perhaps an hour, they came upon a small forest, and Daryl was surprised to find it populated by chocobos. She wasn’t sure why she was so startled to come across the golden plumaged birds in their natural habitat, but their brightness was an unexpected boon in the darkness of this blighted world.

“Hop on,” Setzer’s father said tersely. Daryl preferred not to honor the man with his given name, even in her thoughts.

With little difficulty, the six coaxed birds to their sides and mounted up. Daryl had to admit that it was quite enjoyable. It was nothing compared to true flight, of course, but her chocobo ran so quickly that Daryl’s hair was streaming out behind her and her cheeks tinged pink by the breeze - and the excitement. A sidelong look at Setzer proved that not even the pall of his father’s company could keep her lover from delighting in the unexpected treat.

They continued north for several hours, following the edge of a mountain range that Daryl would be hard pressed to name. With the rearranging of the world, it could just as easily be any mountain range she’d encountered before, or one newly made. Eventually, Daryl’s keen eyes were able to discern a city in the distance. Something about it caused the hair to rise on the back of her neck. Even from a distance it seemed… off.

As they drew nearer, she heard Setzer mutter under his breath, “Fucking Zozo, of course.” That explained why she felt so ill-at-ease; Zozo was well known for being a den of thieves, and worse. She’d avoided it this long, and while not particularly afraid - she had her knives, her magic, and her friends - she wasn’t terribly pleased to be there.

Their reluctant guide reined in his chocobo outside the decrepit town, and the Returners followed suit.

“You meet your buyer in Zozo?” Celes asked succinctly, her tone colored with stark disbelief at the notion that this wealthy buyer lived in such a Goddesses-forsaken place.

“No… just outside,” the senior Gabbiani man replied scornfully. “You don’t honestly think I’d sully my shoes on Zozo’s sidewalks?”

Setzer rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we get it - you’re better than everyone. Where’s the meeting place?”

“This way.” He hobbled his chocobo and began to walk towards the mountains. Daryl and her friends followed after similarly securing their mounts. She kept her eyes peeled, not trusting this at all… and liking it even less.

He led them to an opening in the side of one of the foothills of the unknown mountain range. As Daryl watched, he readied several torches, passing them around to Cyan and Setzer. Daryl recalled the man’s foibles well enough to know that was an intentional slight to the women of their group, and her smirk was full of self-satisfied righteousness when she, Terra, and Celes simultaneously called fireballs to their hands. Who needed a fucking torch when you _were_ the torch?

The way Mr. High-and-Mighty Gabbiani literally shook in his shoes at the arcane display was just the icing on the cake.

Daryl followed Terra into the cave; the group was forced to go single-file in the narrow, natural coordinator. In these close confines, Cyan’s katana would be as useless as Setzer’s razor-sharp throwing cards - if it came to it, the mages would be the ones fighting to protect the party. As they delved deeper into the chasm, the temperature dropped dramatically, and Daryl found herself grateful for the warmth emanating from the flames dancing around her upraised hand. 

She felt Setzer press closer to her and angled her arm to share the heat from her magic as they made their careful way over the damp, stony path.

When the narrow trail opened into a cavernous space, Daryl was momentarily relieved, before her training and cynicism kicked in, dark eyes flicking around to assess any potential threats. The space seemed to be empty, save for the six people comprising their party.

And one brown-clad Imperial trooper.

Glancing at her friends, Daryl could see she wasn’t the only one confused by this anomaly. A foot soldier of a now extinct Empire was the magicite buyer? How would the little shit have the gil? If Gabbiani was willing to fork over 10k out of pocket for just one ‘fireheart emerald’, surely his buyer was paying considerably more?

Despite the flames licking at her fingertips, Daryl rested her free hand on the hilt of one of her daggers. Something wasn’t right about this. She could see Terra had gone pale, her rosebud lips moving as she silently chanted. Cyan had his Masamune half free of its sheath, and Celes had permitted her own flames to die away, replaced by tiny snowflakes wafting away from her open palm.

Well, _shit_.

“Who are you?” Celes demanded, voice ringing with command. She stepped forward, and Daryl had to admire the way her friend boldly shielded Setzer’s father with her own body. Uneasy allies they might be, but that was Celes - ever the protector.

“You?” the Soldier’s voice was a sibilant hiss, echoing off the lichen-crusted stone walls.

And then he giggled.

Daryl thought it was odd for the man to start laughing, but that was nothing to the way her friends reacted. Setzer crouched and pulled out two handfuls of his throwing cards. Cyan’s sword slid fully free with a shrill sound, and he tossed the sheath aside heedlessly. Celes’s eyes went as frosty as her magic, and she too began chanting. The severity of her visage and her upraised arm made Daryl think of nothing so much as the carven image of the Goddess that Terra had described from their journey to the Floating Continent.

And Terra… well, Daryl had never been afraid of her friend before.

She was now.

With an unearthly keen, Terra’s from bled from human to Esper so quickly it had to hurt. There wasn’t even the space for Daryl to blink before the fiery creature began slinging spells at the trooper, her voice harsh as she sang out the arcane syllables required.

Even a half-Esper needed to pause and replenish its energies, however, and when Terra did so Daryl’s eyes widened to see the trooper appeared completely unscathed.

And he was still laughing.

Daryl looked to Celes, seeking guidance. But her friend was blind to anything but that damnable soldier before them. Even as Daryl watched, Celes flung the most powerful Blizzaga Daryl had ever seen at the man.

No effect.

“You think _you_ can hurt _me_? Uwee-hee-hee!” the trooper cackled. “Little bugs you are, trying to use your petty magics against a god.”

Oh _fuck_.

Daryl hadn’t known what to expect when they confronted Kefka, but it certainly hadn’t been an ordinary looking foot soldier. Who else would be so immune to their mages’ strongest spells? 

Who else would dare to taunt them in such a fashion?

Who else would know exactly what a ‘fireheart emerald’ truly was, and how to make use of its potent energies?

Daryl spared a brief glance for Setzer’s father and saw the old man cowering in a corner. He appeared to have soiled himself, and Daryl couldn’t really fault him. She had no love lost for the dirtbag, but she was about a breath away from throwing up herself.

“We will desstroy you,” Terra keened, head canting to one side in an almost birdlike fashion as she lifted her arms again. “Meteorrr…”

Leaping to the side, Daryl swore loudly and covered her head with both arms as meteorites rained down from the cavern’s basalt ceiling, which now appeared as black and starry as the night sky. Yeah, okay, sure - they were aimed at Kefka, but it was damned unnerving having them suddenly appear.

Kefka raised one gauntleted hand and it glowed blue.

Then Daryl’s fear came to fruition - those meteorites flew towards her and her friends.

“Reflect!” Celes screamed, flinging both hands before her in a warding gesture. Daryl took a deep, ragged breath when she saw the rocks bounce ineffectually against an arcane wall before dissipating back into the aether.

Throwing back his head in riotous laughter, Kefka began to… dance? Daryl boggled at the sight before her. The self-styled god of magic seemed to have forgotten he wasn’t alone as he pirouetted in place, singing to himself. “How sweet the screams, the screams so sweet; seeing old friends is such a treat!”

Daryl shot a look at Setzer and saw he looked equally perplexed. Shifting her gaze showed her that Cyan just looked _pissed_. Terra was chanting, but nothing had happened yet. Celes looked to be deep in thought.

“You’ll get no more magicite from Jidoor,” Celes said.

“Releassse...my...people!” Terra hissed with a snarl halfway through Celes’s statement, sparks at her fingertips.

“Your… people?” Kefka mused. “Oh! Yes, yes, _yesyesyes_! I shall release them!” he sang as his erratic movements stilled until he stood directly before Terra. He leaned close to her and murmured with a sick grin, “Death is the truest release.”

And then he vanished.

“Where did he go?!” Cyan shouted, spinning on one booted heel.

A radiant golden nimbus flared around Terra. After it faded, she exhaled deeply, and her human guise reasserted itself. “I can’t trace his magic,” she said regretfully. Daryl saw her slump down to her knees, leaning against the stony wall for support - it was quite obviously draining to change forms so quickly on top of using such potent magic spells.

“What do you think he meant?” Setzer asked. “Magicite are already dead - meaning no offense, Terra - but they are the remains of your people, of the Espers, yes?”  He turned a glare towards his father. “Speaking of magicite, why don’t you hand over the one you’re carrying?”

Without a word, his father passed over the red flecked green stone, and Setzer pocketed it quickly.  He was clearly too shaken to argue.

“That’s right,” Terra nodded. “And it makes no sense that he’d destroy those he collected, when he could continue to draw power from them.”

Daryl had a thought so awful she couldn’t bear to give it voice. But she did give into the impulse she’d been fighting since the soldier-who-wasn’t-a-soldier began laughing. She turned and retched into a corner until she fancied she’d thrown up everything she’d eaten her entire life.

“He wasn’t talking about the Espers,” Celes said, and by the brokenness of her tone, Daryl knew they were of one mind on what the riddle might mean.

Daryl reached out to grasp Setzer’s hand with a white-knuckled grip as Terra turned slowly, oh so slowly, to face Celes. Those emerald eyes were wide and cold, the blood drained from her fine-boned face to leave her waxy and pale in the torchlight.

One heartbeat, and the pallid visage was eclipsed once more by one hewn from fire. “ _Noooo!_ ” Terra wailed discordantly before flying out of the cave in a blaze of rose-ruby flame. Daryl blinked to dissipate the afterimage left behind by the flash of transformation.

“We need to get to the Falcon,” Celes said tersely. “We need to follow her. She doesn't have the magical energy for a sustained flight, let alone whatever else she plans to do.”

They began to run back the way they came.

“We’ll never make it in time,” Daryl said.

“I know. But we have to try.”

“Where are we going?” Cyan asked.

Of course. He’d joined the group only yesterday, and despite the storytelling in Jidoor, it made sense he wouldn’t make the intuitive leap the rest of their party had.

“Mobliz.” Celes’s voice was as chill as her chosen element.

“Fuck,” Setzer breathed, and Daryl thought that was an accurate summary of the present situation.

There was no way they could hope to make it before Kefka did whatever he was going to do. Daryl only hoped they could manage to catch up before Terra did something stupid like get herself killed.

They ran faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit just got real, y'all...


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Forkbeard the beta-bro for helping smooth this out. Remaining mistakes are all mine!

Kefka hadn’t been this happy since he destroyed… which town was it? No matter. Since losing Doomgaze, and then failing to destroy the Returners in Kohlingen, he’d been in a foul mood. How was he to track them down without his eye in the sky?

He should have realized they’d come for the magicite, but oh, what a delightful surprise it was to see them again! Kefka didn’t care much about the pilot or the stranger standing beside him, but he recalled Cyan from his time at Doma. Kefka’s thoughts paused here as he did a little jig, recalling the terrified screams as poison overwhelmed the once prosperous, peaceful kingdom.

That bitch Celes came as no surprise - she could never leave well enough alone. Kefka threw back his head and laughed. Maybe her Magitek conversion had gone better than his, but who had the power now? Her strongest spells hadn’t so much as scratched his defenses. He looked forward to bathing in her blood someday.

But Terra, ah, how Kefka had missed her! Such a pity that those pathetic Returners had captured her and removed the Slave Crown. She seemed to have gained immense power along with the ability to transform into her Esper self, and Kefka sighed wistfully as he considered what he could have done with that power, properly harnessed.

When he killed her, would she leave a magicite behind? Another pretty, powerful rock for his collection?

Those pretty little sparklies had given him so much more power than he’d ever dreamed of. By fusing them with the Statues it had given him nearly limitless arcane energy to draw upon. If that didn’t make him a God, he didn’t know what would. And they were so warm to the touch, like cookies fresh from the oven, or the embers remaining from burning a house down. Ahh, fire. The purest of lights. Almost as good as his Light of Judgement, purifying the world one decrepit mortal town at a time. Kefka realized he was flexing and unflexing his fingertips as if preparing to cast, but oh, this wasn’t the time! Not the time at all! He forced himself to still his hand motions but was unable to look away from the compelling sight of his lurid polka-dotted gloves.

He laughed and laughed, heedless of the time passing until he heard high pitched voices shrieking in a glee nearly matching his own. Ah, how fortuitous; despite his divergent thoughts, his feet had faithfully continued to carry him the short distance from his teleport point towards Mobliz.

Kefka walked toward the playing children and smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner. But the little brats recoiled in terror and ran into the town.

No matter. He wasn’t here to make friends. Besides, it would go quicker if they were all in one place.

Kefka walked through the empty streets of the town, looking for stragglers. Most of the buildings seemed deserted, but he looked within them all both visually and magically. It seemed Terra’s adopted brood was all gathered inside the large town hall. Good.

He swayed idly from side to side to a song only he could hear, considering the best way to send this message to dear Terra. Kefka quickly discarded his strongest magics - spells like Ultima and Meteor weren’t likely to leave behind much evidence, and he sincerely wanted there to be… remnants… behind for the Returners to weep over.

Ahhh, how sweet those tears would be! Sweeter than the honeycakes Matron fed the children at the orphanage; sweeter than the mead Leo insisted he drink when they went out after drills.

Sweeter even than Gestahl’s screams as Kefka pushed him off the Floating Continent, ending the long, infuriating years Kefka spent as his magical lapdog. Uwee-hee, vengeance was so sweet!

But this would be sweeter.

Singing to himself, he walked into the town hall, the locked door proving no challenge for the God of Magic. He had to sing louder to hear himself over the screams, matching his pitch to the delightful sounds of begging and crying.

After taking care of the younglings, he turned towards the two adults who seemed frozen in horror. Sweeping a bow learned a lifetime ago at Gestahl’s court, Kefka walked towards them with his lips pulled back in an insane grimace that almost resembled a smile, giggling at a private joke.

Then he lifted his hands one final time, and all the screaming stopped.

* * *

Terra knew even as she soared that she’d never make it in time. She considered finding a landing point and teleporting, but scanning below only saw murky purple waves. Swearing inwardly at her tempestuous, poorly thought-out actions, she pushed herself harder, trying to go faster even as she knew there was no way she’d get there in time. And even if she did, what hope did she have to stand alone against Kefka? If only she’d taken a moment to think before acting. At times her nature was too similar to her element, mercurial and brightly burning, spurring her on to action before fully considering the consequences. 

When the Falcon drew up alongside her, Terra bared her teeth in a fierce smile. Good. She’d have backup. With practiced ease, she spun in the air and flew to the Falcon, landing on the deck nimbly.

“Here!” Locke shouted, tossing her an Ether.

Terra nodded at him in thanks before quaffing the restorative brew. Lifting her hands, she began to chant the teleport incantation. Reality swirled, and a heartbeat later she was standing in the Mobliz town square.

It was quiet. No sounds of children playing, or of… any other things.

Terra made haste to the town hall and found the door hanging off the hinges, half burned away.  
The confirmation that she hadn’t been in time changed her rage to sorrow like quicksilver, her fiery guise fading into humanity as she sank to her knees on the stoop. Sobs shook her slim shoulders and overhead clouds gathered at an unnatural speed. Rain began to pour down in thick, unrelenting sheets. Terra thought it most appropriate that the entire world wept, not realizing in her grief that she had summoned the storm.

When the lightning bolt struck a tree at the edge of town, Terra nodded grimly. The world was as angry as she was.

Kefka had to be stopped.

Terra knew she had to go inside, had to see firsthand what had happened, see if there were any survivors. But she was paralyzed by her grief and self-flagellation, and so she continued to sit on the doorstep even after her tears had dried, watching the rain fall.

The rain trailed off and the sun came back out just in time for it to set. Terra watched as the Falcon circled overhead, recognizing the familiar landing sequence, and she knew her friends would join her soon. Hopefully they wouldn’t judge her weakness in waiting for them before facing the horror that certainly lay within, nor her idiocy in trying to out fly Kefka’s teleport spell.

“Terra!” Edgar called out as he ran to her side, followed by Celes and Sabin.

She stood up and brushed at her clothing as if she could wipe away the water soaking the fabric. “I was too late.” Her voice broke on the words and she fell into Edgar’s arms. Her tears were spent for now, but she tried to get her breathing under control.

“Have you gone inside?” Celes asked gently, laying an hand on Terra’s shoulder.

Terra shook her head in negation.

“Do you want us to go first?” Sabin asked.

“No,” Terra said. “It should be me.” She offered Edgar a tremulous smile as she eased out of his embrace. Squaring her shoulders, she turned towards the gaping doorway. With one last deep breath, she walked inside, her friends close behind.

Terra raised a hand to her mouth, emerald eyes wide in shock despite having known what was coming. Knowing was different than seeing. Everywhere she looked, small bodies lay like dolls. No wounds marred those tiny forms, but the sightless eyes were all the confirmation she needed. She walked into the house slowly, and her tears started up again.

“Oh, Triad,” she heard Celes breathe a pace behind her.

Terra heard someone throw up - either Sabin or Edgar, she didn’t turn to look - and pressed her other hand to her stomach, willing it to not follow suit. With a resolve she didn’t know she had, Terra walked further into the house. She had to step over Duane’s corpse where it lay blocking the path to the bedroom he shared with Katarin, and she smiled despite the monstrosity of the situation at hand - Duane was hotheaded, but he always meant well. Terra knelt down and gently shut his staring eyes, whispering a prayer to the Goddesses.

She stood again and walked into the bedroom, seeing Katarin’s body laying in the bed. Terra’s tears turned bitter. The baby never even got a chance to live. Kefka was… she didn’t have a word for what that madman was, but if she’d ever had the slightest doubts that they had to stop him, the dead pregnant woman laying before her put an end to them.

But then she heard a faint squalling cry and she gasped, looking around frantically. Had someone survived?

“In here!” she called out. The room was large enough that she could use help in her search, especially as her hands shook so much she could barely lift a pillow to look behind it.

Terra wasn’t surprised that Celes answered her call, but she was grateful. Celes would know what to do, would be able to keep cool in this or any other crisis. Terra had witnessed it time and time again.

She was a little taken aback seeing tears streaming down the Magitek Knight’s face, but it didn’t seem to slow Celes.

“What did you find?” Celes asked.

Terra began to answer, but the sound of crying answered for her.

“A survivor!” Celes exclaimed. She needed no further explanation and began tearing up the room, opening cabinets and dresser drawers.

Terra knelt down and lifted the edge of the soiled bedlinens, peering beneath the bed. What she saw made her heart skip a beat even as her tears continued to fall.

Katarin’s baby had survived. She must have given birth right before Kefka’s arrival; the babe was still covered in blood and other birthing fluids. But it was wrapped in a blanket, and it was alive.

Carefully, Terra pulled the baby from beneath the bed and cradled it to her chest as she rose. She turned to face Celes and didn’t know what to say. “I found it,” she came up with.

Celes walked over. “May I?” she asked, holding out her hands.

Terra passed her the baby with a nod, and watched as Celes lay it down on the bed beside the corpse of its mother, unwrapping the swaddling blanket and checking it over for injuries. Finding none, Celes nodded in satisfaction and re-wrapped the baby, passing it back to Terra.

“It’s a girl,” Celes confirmed what Terra had seen moments ago. Clearly her friend was having as much trouble with actual conversation as Terra was. “What should we do with her?”

“I’m keeping her,” Terra said, no hesitance in her response. “She’s all that’s left of this village, and… I need to do this.”

“I wasn’t going to argue,” Celes said mildly. “But we can’t exactly take a baby into a warzone.”

“You can leave her at Figaro,” Edgar said from the doorway. “She’ll be safe there.”

“What are you going to call her?” Sabin asked, peeking over his brother’s shoulder.

Terra smiled beatifically. “Madonna.”

* * *

Edgar’s frown didn’t dissipate as the Falcon circled to land by Figaro Castle. Normally the sight of his home lifted his spirits, but he couldn’t imagine anything achieving that on this day. He’d seen some horrible things in the last two years, but nothing compared to the atrocity of a village of children murdered.

Watching Terra dote on the baby made him smile, but it was a pale imitation of the joy that sight would have normally brought.

While nothing had been said out loud, he felt that his friends were on the same page as he - Kefka must be stopped. Now. The time for recruiting and planning was at an end. Unless anyone has strong opposition, Edgar was going to suggest they form a plan tonight, try and get a few hours of sleep, and head off for that eyesore of a tower the next day.

Once the Falcon landed and they had all filed into the castle - Setzer and Daryl choosing to lock down the controls and join them, rather than staying on deck as was their custom - Edgar asked his chamberlain to have food sent to the conference room. While they waited for the food, he cleared his throat, waiting until he had everyone’s attention.

“Is it safe for me to assume we’re all in agreement… we go for Kefka tomorrow. We stop him. We restore balance to this ruin.”

His fellow Returners nodded, and will all eyes on him, Edgar continued.

“I have a plan… well, Celes and I have a plan.” He gestured to the one-time General who walked to stand beside him with a nod, her head held high.

“Kefka isn’t a god,” Celes said scathingly. “He’s getting his power from somewhere. My guess? He’s drawing on the Statues.”

“That would make sense,” Terra murmured softly as she rocked the sleeping baby.

“So how do we cut him off?” Daryl asked.

“We destroy the Statues,” Edgar said grimly.

“But…” Terra’s eyes widened in distress. “That will end magic as we know it. It could end…” her voice faded out as she looked around the room in a panic.

“It could,” Celes’s voice was solemn. “Me too. But, Terra… we _have_ to stop Kefka, at any cost.”

“You’re right,” Terra whispered. “But I don’t want to die.”

“We have to hope that it won’t come to that,” Edgar said. He had no wish to send the woman he loved to her death, but if it was the only way to end Kefka, well… victory had sacrifices. If their entire party had to march to their deaths to save the world, Edgar would reckon it a fair price to pay.

But if he could spare Terra this… he would.

Daryl cleared her throat. “How do we destroy magical statues that have survived a millennium?”

Edgar forced a cocky grin to his face as he met the pilot’s eyes. “Between you, Setzer, and me, surely we can come up with something.”

“Blow them up,” Setzer interjected.

When everyone turned to stare at him, he shrugged. “They’re made of rock. It’s worth a try. I can’t imagine magic working against them, which is why I assume Edgar was thinking it would be the mechanics who would solve this problem. So let’s try to blow them up.”

“Our hope is that when the Statues are taken out, Kefka will be weakened enough to fall to our magic,” Celes elaborated. Then she turned her attention to Locke. “But we’ll need someone to get us there.

“Sounds like you need a treasure hunter,” Locke said. “Who knows what loot I’ll find in the stronghold of a ‘god’?”

“Right,” Edgar nodded, trying to keep the meeting on track. It was already nearing midnight, and they had much to do. “Celes will lead a team comprised of herself, Terra, Daryl, and Locke. Locke will help them get past any traps and find a way to Kefka’s… well, throne room, or wherever he spends his days. I’ll lead a team made up of myself, Setzer, and Gogo. We’ll look for the statues and destroy them.”

“What do we do?” Sabin asked, gesturing between himself, Cyan, and Shadow.

“You three are our strongest warriors,” Celes said. “You’ll go in and tackle any other monsters Kefka may have on his side. We hope it will cause enough of a distraction to let Edgar’s team get to the statues.”

“It shall be done,” Cyan said gravely with a nod.

Shadow merely nodded, one hand reaching to lay on Intercepter’s head.

“Everyone should take tonight to stock up,” Edgar said. “My armory is your armory. Load up on curatives and restoratives. We have no idea what we’re facing up there.”

“And try to get some sleep,” Celes added. “I know we’re all keyed up from… what happened earlier, and the thought of what may happen tomorrow, but rest is important.” Her wry smile showed she knew none of them would sleep much, but she had to try.

Terra stood. “Is there anything else? I want to put Madonna to bed before I… prepare myself.”

Edgar nodded. “I think we’re done here.”

“Yeah,” Celes agreed. “We’ll reconvene for breakfast at dawn.” She met each person’s eyes in turn. “Rest well.”

* * *

Celes wandered the palistrades aimlessly. Despite her admonitions to her friends, she knew sleep was a lost cause. This might be the last night of her life - why would she spend it unconscious?

Not that aimlessly walking around the castle was a much better way to pass the hours, but she couldn’t stay still. She considered going to find a friend, but knew they were all busy. Daryl and Setzer had returned to the Falcon, Edgar had gone off after Terra. The others were all in the armory, preparing themselves for the coming battle.

Celes supposed she should be used to being alone. But she’d grown used to having her friends around her, and was loathe to spend her final hours in solitude.

“Celes.” The sound of her name caused Celes to turn. She saw Sabin leaning on a parapet, looking out over the dessert. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“No,” she said, walking to stand beside him and leaning on the stone rail.

“I spent most my life away from here, but it still feels like home.”

“I don’t have a home,” Celes was surprised to feel tears burn in her eyes. She’d once thought of Vector as her home, but that wasn’t a home, not really. More like a prison. Now after all was said and done, if they survived the battle - where would she go?

She had nothing left.

“Now you know that’s not true,” Sabin argued. “Home isn’t always a place. Home is a feeling.” His smile was kind, the wisdom gained in his years under Duncan’s tutelage shining in blue eyes. “Your friends are your home. Don’t shut us out.”

As the tears began to cascade freely at Sabin’s sentimental - but true - words, Celes leaned against the monk for support, for comfort.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when he kissed her forehead, but she _was_ surprised to find herself lifting her head to capture his lips with her own.

A rueful chuckle bubbled deep in her chest. Well, it _was_ potentially the last night of her life.

She didn’t want to spend it alone.

* * *

Madonna was a calm baby, quite miraculous considering the tumult shortly after her birth. Terra was able to settle her without any difficulty. A soft knock at her door drew her attention. Opening the door, she saw it was Edgar. Rather than inviting him in, she stepped into the hall. “The baby’s sleeping.”

“Oh,” Edgar said. “Sorry.”

Terra smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m glad to see you.”

“Walk with me?” Edgar asked.

“I need to gather provisions,” Terra said.

“I’ll go with you.”

Terra linked arms with Edgar and they walked to the infirmary. A silence fell over them but this time it wasn’t peaceful - it was charged with the knowledge that this might be their last walk together.

Even if the Statues destruction didn’t end Terra’s life as she feared would happen due to her Esper heritage, this fight could be the death of any of them. Of all of them.

“Edgar, I—”

He stopped her with one gloved finger across her lips, and she blinked up at him.

“This isn’t the end,” Edgar said fiercely. “We’ll defeat Kefka, come back to Figaro, and live happily ever after, dammit.”

Terra’s eyes widened. “I… certainly hope so.”

“I _know_ so,” Edgar insisted. He stopped and pulled her down a side corridor. “Terra, when this is done, I want you to be my Queen.”

Terra cocked her head to one side, feeling a smile blossom across her delicate features. “Is that your way of asking me to marry you?”

“Triad, I’m bad at this,” Edgar muttered. “There should be flowers and candlelight, music and poetry. But yes.” He took both her hands in his and squeezed them, his cerulean gaze locked to hers. “Say you’ll be my wife. My Queen. We’ll raise Madonna together.” His smile turned a touch sardonic. “All we have to do is save the world…”

She blinked tear-blurred eyes and nodded. “When this is over… I’ll marry you.” She kissed him sweetly. “We’ll get through this together.

* * *

It was quiet on the deck of the Falcon. Daryl realized she’d grown used to the constant background noise comprised of chatter, breathing, people walking around.

She hoped those people weren’t all gonna die tomorrow.

While it was a secret to nobody that she and Setzer regularly recused themselves to the Falcon to snag some time alone, tonight their white lie was made truth. The two mechanics were going over every inch of the airship, making sure it was in the best possible shape for tomorrow’s flight. Sure, the Falcon wouldn’t actually be a part of the battle - but they’d need a way in.

And a way out.

Daryl clenched her jaw as she tightened down the screws on a replacement blade. She had to believe they’d make it out of this. Had to believe she wouldn’t have her life stolen away before she’d truly gotten to live, to make up for that lost decade.

But, she was a realist. They were going against the most powerful mage ever to walk their world.

Some people were gonna die.

“I don’t like it,” Setzer said, cutting through her introspection.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking up from the propeller she was working on.

“Us being in separate groups,” he explained. “I told you before.” Setzer crossed the deck and gripped Daryl’s shoulders. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

Daryl fought to suppress the impulse to give in, to stay at her lover’s side. Goddesses knew if she was to die, she’d like to die with him, have his scarred face be her last sight.

But they all had jobs to do.

“They need you to rig the bomb,” Daryl said gently. “And they need me to use my magic.”

“I wish you’d never fucking learned to cast,” Setzer muttered angrily.

“So do I!” Daryl hissed, rising to her feet. “I wish I never _had_ to learn. I wish I’d never crashed the Falcon. I wish a madman with magic wasn’t chipping away at what was left of the world day after day. I wish we could just fly and make love and forget all this.” She took a breath.  
“But we’re better than that. We have to try. We have to believe… that we’ll come out the other side.”

They stared silently into each other’s eyes, stricken violet cleaved unto determined brown.

And then, as one, they embraced and sank to the deck-planks for one last reaffirmation of their love.

* * *

Cyan inspected each katana Figaro Castle had to offer, and shook his head. Some were fine blades indeed, but none compared to his Masamune. He did, however, find a breastplate that fit to replace his worn and dented piece.

As he watched, Shadow picked over the dirks and short swords, strapping several to his belt. It made sense that the ninja could throw things other than his sais, and was prudent to bring backup weaponry. Cyan approved, and in a similar vein, selected the best of the swords he’d previously discarded. Finding a sheath that fit the blade, he strapped it opposite his other, nodding in satisfaction when he realized the weights were almost identical. Close enough, for certain, that it wouldn't throw off his balance terribly.

The mimic was a mystery to to Cyan. Gogo was digging through crates seemingly at random, assembling a plethora of… well, everything.

“How wilt thou carry so much into battle?” Cyan had to ask.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Gogo said, one eye winking above their cowl as they strapped a sheathed broadsword to their back.

“Don’t overburden yourself,” Shadow rasped. “We’ll need to move quickly.”

“You’ll be with Edgar’s team, trying to destroy the statues,” Cyan said. “Why dost thou need such weaponry?”

Gogo’s eyes were serious, and for once his timbre held no hint of the subtle mocking humor they’d all grown accustomed to. “Do you think they will be unguarded?”

Cyan nodded. The mime was cannier than he’d credited.

“I’m going to sleep. I suggest you do the same.” With those words, Shadow vanished into the night as he was prone to do. Cyan spared a moment to shake his head at the ninja’s dramatics, but didn’t really mind. That same ability to meld into the shadows which were his namesake would likely come in quite handy on the morrow.

“Until tomorrow,” Gogo said, back to his amused-at-the-world, laughing tone.

Cyan stood in the silence of the armory as he thought about the coming battle. He wasn’t certain they had any hope of defeating such a powerfully evil creature, but they had to try.

And if he fell…at least he’d see Elaine and Owain once more.

* * *

Morning dawned too soon, as far as Sabin was concerned. He dropped a kiss on Celes’s forehead before disentangling himself, dressing, and heading to the same large chamber their group had gathered in the night before. His brother was already there, and they exchanged a nod before tucking into breakfast. The rest of their friends trickled in over the next half hour. The morning meal was a quiet affair, none speaking save to ask for dishes to be passed. Once they were finished, Celes and Edgar stood as one, tall and commanding in the dim light filtered through the castle’s narrow windows.

“Get your gear. We’re heading out,” Celes commanded, turning on one heel and striding from the room.

Edgar met each person’s eyes with a small smile before following her out.

Sabin sighed. Well, no use in delaying. He had his gear on him, so he followed their leaders on the short walk from Figaro to the Falcon.

Once everyone had boarded, Daryl took them into the skies with expert precision, Setzer at her side as was customary. Sabin smiled. He was glad they’d found each other again, before… well, before the end.

He glanced around and his smile broadened. Fuck, he was glad he had found his brother, his friends. But most of all, he was grateful he had a chance to try and fix what Kefka had broken.  
Sabin went to stand at the Falcon’s prow, watching as the deranged, mangled spire of Kefka’s Tower grew steadily larger on the horizon.

The day had come. The moment was now.

Kefka was going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are love! <3


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest thanks as always to beta-bro, Forkbeard, for his super helpful beta serice.
> 
> Two chapters in one day; don't get used to it, folks! :P

Daryl brought the Falcon to a half over one spire of the rickety looking Tower, locking the controls so it would maintain its position relative to the ledge they floated above. At the same time, Setzer undid the fastenings on the boarding ladder, and when it unwound it fell almost the entire distance to the platform they hoped to use to gain entry to the stronghold.

“This is it,” Daryl mumbled under her breath, shoving a hank of sweaty hair back from her eyes. She paused a moment to clasp the Tritoch magicite, praying for the strength to survive this. If only they’d had more time, if only Terra’d had the chance to make good on her promise to teach Daryl healing magic. But if wishes had wings, they’d all fly; it was better to focus on reality and not the fantasy.

She stopped by Setzer, reaching out to wipe away a smear of engine grease from one wind-burned cheek. “I love you,” she said the same way one might say ‘it’s sunny out’. It was just a fact, but she wanted to say it.

“I love you,” he answered her, and they kissed, clinging together in momentary desperation, realizing this might be their last. But they parted, and Setzer smiled at her.

Daryl grinned back at him and swaggered away, affecting far more confidence than she felt. No words were spoken, but none were needed - they’d said their farewells on the Falcon the night before. Joining her fellow mages, she looked to Celes for guidance.

“Locke will get us past any traps,” Celes said.

The treasure hunter nodded grimly, his normal bravado subdued in light of the enormity of this day.

“And we’ll destroy Kefka,” Terra whispered.

Of one mind, all four nodded, and set off down the ladder and into the tower.

* * *

“We have to find the Statues fast,” Edgar said to Setzer and Gogo. “Setzer, do you have everything we’ll need?”

“I fucking hope so,” the gambler answered with a toss of silvery-white hair. “I have no idea what kinda fire-power it’ll take to destroy the Triad, so I’m bringing everything I’ve got.”

Edgar loaded his auto-crossbow and took point once they descended the ladder. He saw the way Setzer cast a longing glance after his lady love, though to his credit, the mechanic refocused in an instant, walking almost on Edgar’s heels.

They’d barely made it down a hallway when the first monsters attacked, twisted beasts that defied all description.

Edgar fired his crossbow with a shout, and watched as Setzer flung a handful of his razor-edged playing cards. Gogo opted to mimic a skill he’d learned from Sabin, channeling his energy into a Fire Dance blitz which finished off the monsters.

“Let’s keep moving,” Edgar said with a grimace.

* * *

Sabin took point with Cyan and Shadow flanking him a step behind, though Shadow blended into the background so seamlessly Sabin could almost forget he was there.

“It’s an honor,” Cyan said brusquely, “to die at your side.”

“Yeah,” Sabin said, under no illusions about their team’s mission. “Same goes, Mr. Thou.”

They delved deeper into the dungeon, going downstairs in contrast to the way their friends sought higher ground. Sabin was alerted to the danger when one of Shadow’s lightning-enchanted sais flew overhead, stabbing into a monster lurking in the darkness.

Sabin fell into a fighting stance and hear the ringing sound of Cyan unsheathing his blade.

Time to dance. With a roar, the monk flew into motion.

* * *

Terra drank two Ethers one after the other and dragged the ragged edge of her red sleeve across her sweaty brow. She couldn’t remember ever casting so continuously, and she was grateful they had Locke along. While the man was a near magical-null even after training with magicite, he had an uncanny instinct for leading them around traps and pitfalls that the mages would have never noticed. Additionally, Daryl monkeyed around with some mechanisms they passed by, leaving little surprises for any of Kefka’s flunkies who might be tailing them.

They just might have a chance. Things were going so much better than she ever envisioned, surely hope was not lost.

A dragon roared, and Terra’s heart sank. She should have known better than to relax her guard.

With a whispered prayer to the spirits of her ancestors, Terra tranced herself into the fire-flame guise of her Esper half, raising flaming hands to hurl magic at the gigantic beast, even as she heard Celes and Daryl chanting their own spells. She saw Locke fall back on the defensive, his Hawkeye little more than an annoyance to a dragon.

They’d faced similar and won. They’d win again today.

They had to.

* * *

Kefka lowered his hands with a loud exhalation, wiping the sweat off his face with disgust. Somehow, those fucking Returners had not only penetrated _his_ Tower, but they were drawing near, too near, not near enough. Kefka had laid a few arcane traps around his Statues, and now headed up, up, up. He who had the higher ground had the advantage, after all, so Kefka would ascend to the roof of his stronghold to await the interlopers.

And ohh, how sweet the taste of their power! He licked his painted lips with a giggle. Kefka recognized the tang of Celes’s icy magic, the sulfur of Terra’s flame; he didn’t know who they’d found to channel the lightening, but the newcomer was just as delicious, oh yes, they were! 

Kefka would kill them all and drink down their powers for himself, and with them out of the way, why, there’d be none strong enough to stand against him!

He was a God, and did not appreciate being challenged. He’d crush the Returner scum, and then he could rule the world with an iron fist.  Well, a magical fist; he wouldn’t wish to actually get his hands dirty.

Kefka clung to the railing of the rooftop platform, throwing back his head in deranged laughter.

* * *

“They just keep fuckin’ coming!” Sabin growled, bringing his hands together and firing off an Aura Bolt into a pack of demonic creatures.

“Verily, they seem to be endless in number,” Cyan said soberly, cleaving his katana down, cutting one beast in twain.

Shadow had long since run out of sais, moving on to flinging daggers and shortswords he’d taken from Figaro’s armory. He narrowed his eyes behind his mask, considering the odds. The doorway to the next level lay just beyond this pack, if they could only get through.

“When I give the word,” Shadow shouted, “run!”

He readied a smoke bomb and made deliberate eye contact with Sabin and Cyan in turn. “ _Run!_ ” He dropped the bomb and hazy smoke filled the corridor. Shadow flung himself directly at the monsters silently, rending at limbs and trying to keep them busy until his friends got past. He heard the sounds of a door opening and closing, and nodded in satisfaction. It had worked.

Setting his back to the closed door, Shadow snarled fiercely and crossed a set of daggers before his breast. None would get past him. He’d see to it.

* * *

“How much farther?” Setzer demanded, putting out a small patch of fire on the sleeve of his coat.

“It has to be near,” Edgar wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. “Or why have such strong guards on this level?”

Gogo said nothing, but followed closely, holding a chainsaw that was the twin to Edgar’s.

“There!” Edgar shouted, pointing. “A door!”

Of course, it was beyond a battalion of Magitek troopers.

“Fuck,” Setzer breathed with feeling, and Edgar couldn’t argue the sentiment.

“Shall we dance, gentlemen?” Gogo asked in their familiar lackadaisical cadence.

Casting a sidelong glance, Edgar saw the mimic now paralleled Cyan, a fearsome katana held parallel to the ground as they sank into a graceful stance.

“Let’s,” he said shortly, hanging his chainsaw back on his belt and drawing his bio blaster.

* * *

“Keep going!” Celes bellowed above the sounds of battle. Daring a glance down through a hole Terra had blasted clear through one side of the Tower, she swallowed back bile upon seeing how high up they were. They had to be close to the apex, they just had to.

“Workin’ on it!” Daryl snarled, releasing another Thundaga into the fray.

“Yess,” Terra hissed in her sibilant, otherworldly timbre, Firagas falling away from her hands as easily as raindrops cascaded from a summer stormcloud.

“You ladies are fucking insane,” Locke muttered as he picked his way through the battle towards the door ahead. “Don’t step here!” he roared, diving away before a spike slammed into the tile he’d paused upon. “Kefka is one shitting sicko to come up with these Goddesses-damned obstacles.”

“You sound like you admire him,” Celes said wryly, shooting him a grin as if they weren’t fighting for their lives.

“You know me,” Locke quipped. “Always on the lookout for a new idea to borrow.”

“You mean steal,” Daryl said.

“Hey! I’m no thief!”

* * *

Slamming the door shut behind them and latching the bolt - for all the good it’d fucking do - Setzer strode forward, his feet faltered as mingled feeling of awe and horror overtook him.

They’d found the Statues of the Warring Triad alright, but Kefka, that shitting madman, seemed to have wired magicite directly to them. Setzer had no clue what the ramifications would be of blowing them skyward, but didn’t think they had any other choice. With how Celes explained it, cutting Kefka’s power at the source was the only shot they had - even if the same blow dealt to their foe also crippled their own strength.

“Get moving!” Setzer snapped at his companions. Edgar guarded the perimeter, and Gogo moved in perfect tandem with Setzer as he set the charges around the base of the macabre display Kekfa had arranged in his inner sanctum. Aside from being fused with magicite, the Statues were shoved together in a parody of a group hug, but Setzer fancied the carven eyes looked angry.

He hoped they could run far enough away not to spend their lives in the blast.

* * *

“Cyan!” Sabin shouted, coughing and rising from where he’d been thrown into a wall.

“Here!” the samurai bellowed, his sword cutting a path through the swarm.

“Where’s Shadow?” Sabin screamed the question as he sliced his claws viciously through a 10-foot tall zombified Magitek trooper.

“Gone!”

“Fuck!”

* * *

Kefka was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face unnoticed. He folded in on himself, emaciated arms wrapping around his midsection as if to contain the guffaws. Oh ho ho, this was too much! They were rising and falling, succeeding and failing, and Kefka realized he didn’t know if he’d be able to beat them.

That made him laugh even harder, and he fell to the stone roof in a cackling heap.

* * *

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” Daryl gasped, holding a hand to a bloody gash along her ribs.

Terra stepped up and breathed arcane words, laying a hand over the wound. When she lifted it away, the cut was gone.

“We’re almost there,” Celes insisted. “Not much longer now.”

“I hope you’re right,” Locke said, slinging his Hawkeye at another magical assailant before pressing onward.

* * *

Intercepter howled as wicked claws sank into his side, and Shadow swore. He brought his blade down on his pet’s assailant with a vicious scream, determined to save the canine’s life.

Shadow supposed it was too late to wonder if he should have left Interceptor back at Figaro.  While the dog had been a constant companion in battle, it still pained Shadow to imagine his pet falling to a horde of demonic foes.

Ah, well. They’d been companions so long in life, it was only fitting they go together into death. One could only stay a step ahead of the reaper for so long...

* * *

Celes, Terra, and Daryl stood in a triangular pattern, arrayed scant paces away from the tumbled, chuckling form of the self-styled God of Magic.

With gritted teeth, Celes fired off a Blizzaga, eyes narrowing when the spell seemed to dissipate at a negligent wave of Kefka’s hand.

Terra took to the skies and began singing her fire-chants, each spell more powerful than the last, and each doing no discernible damage.

Daryl clutched her magicite pendant and sent out a Thundaga, already knowing it was futile.

He was just too strong.

Did Setzer and the others fail? Could the Statues not be taken down by conventional methods?

The raucous, unhinged laughter swirling around them filled her with nausea.

Was this the end?

* * *

“That’s the last charge!” Setzer roared. “Get outta here!”

They made a break for it in a mad dash towards the door. Setzer shot through, followed by Edgar.

“I bid you adieu,” Gogo’s evenly-pitched voice floated on the air a moment before the door slammed shut between them.  Setzer heard the sound of the locking mechanism engaged and realized Gogo was gonna throw their life away to try and buy them some time; to attempt to contain the blast as well as keep Kefka’s lackeys from stopping the explosion.

“No!” Edgar screamed, pounding his fists so hard on the stone that blood seeped through his gloves.

“We don’t have time for this!” Setzer yelled. “They made their choice. Come on!”

They ran and ran, but didn’t make it off the floor before the explosion bowled them off their feet, tumbling them both into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALMOST THERE, FAM!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3 <3


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my thanks to Ivaar the beta-bro for listening to me talk about this story way too much, and then editing it into a coherent read. All remaining errors are on me!

Celes struggled to catch her breath. A glance at her friends showed that Terra and Daryl were feeling equally wiped. No surprise, that, with how constantly the three had been slinging their most powerful spells.

And still - it wasn’t enough.

“Regroup!” she shouted. “Locke, Ethers!”

He passed each woman a bottle and kept a wary eye on Kefka, who for his part seemed content to lounge on his macabre throne - was the fucking thing made of _bones_ \- and watch them, laughing maniacally.

“What’s the plan?” Daryl asked briskly. “What we’re doing isn’t working.”

“We have to hope that our friends succeed,” Celes said.

Even in her arcane form, Terra’s eyes looked troubled. Celes understood her friend’s fears - the end of the Statues could mean the end of magic.

The end of Terra, who had magic running in her veins as surely as blood.

The end of Celes, infused with magic as a baby.

Those like Daryl who merely trained with magicite should be okay. But Celes didn’t know what would become of Terra or herself. And to be honest? It didn’t matter. If she had to die - if all her friends had to die - it would be a small price to pay to bring Kefka down.

To save the world.

“You Returners and your friendships,” Kefka sniped from his seat. “I have a friend, too - yes, yes, I do!” He beamed, wriggling in his chair in excitement. “Come out, come out - join the party!”

In horror, Celes realized she recognized the shambling corpse that manifested from the teleport spell Kefka cast.

“General Leo?” she whispered in horror. Oh, _Goddesses_. Was _nothing_ safe from this madman - not even the dead?

“No,” Terra hissed angrily, another round of fire spells already sparking at her fingertips as she began to chant.

Daryl glanced between her friends. “I don’t know why you’re so upset over a zombie… but let’s take it down and focus. We’ve got a job to do.”

A momentary flare of annoyance at Daryl’s cavalier attitude was quickly suppressed. Daryl was right; Celes needed to keep her head in the game. “Terra? Could you?”

“ _Firaga_ …”

The zombie burst into flames, and Celes thought he looked… relieved.

Kefka jumped off his throne angrily. “What is fucking wrong with you?” he shrieked. “I invite a friend to play, and you just burn him away? I should have cast Reflect.” He crossed his arms and pouted at Leo’s charred corpse, malice shining in the depths of his eyes.  “Leo, you fucking idiot! What kind of military tactic was that, just standing there and getting set on fire?!” Kefka sighed dramatically. “Guess I was the smarter man after all,” he cackled as he turned back towards the Returners. 

“I suppose I’ll have to join the fun,” Kefka purred, timbre changing in an instant from fury to pleasure.

As he began to chant, Celes threw up a Reflect spell, pouring as much strength as she could into the barrier.

It wasn’t enough.

“Daryl!” she screamed as her friend, standing at the left-hand point of their triangle, took the brunt of the blow, falling to her feet.

“I’ll distract him!” Locke shouted. “Cure her!” He dove around Kefka, slinging his Hawkeye - it would probably annoy their foe more than do real damage, but he could at least buy the others some time.

Terra flew to Daryl’s side and the two women were bathed in a golden nimbus as she healed the pilot.

Staggering to her feet, Daryl muttered with a hint of her typical asperity, “That fucking _hurt_.”

Terra patted Daryl’s shoulder with one fiery hand, and resumed slinging Firagas at Kefka. A moment later, Daryl followed suit, clutching her magicite pendant and screaming out her spells.

For some reason, Celes found herself staring at the shining green stone grasped in Daryl’s hand. Tritoch, master over all the elements, whereas Celes and her friends each had an affinity to one. They could all cast any, but definitely had their strengths.

What if they…? No. That was a silly idea.

… or was it? Nothing else was working.

Celes’s thoughts raced at a frantic pace and she came to a decision. If it didn’t work, it would at least stall Kefka until Setzer and the others could blow up the Statues.

“On my count!” she roared with the experienced battlefield bellow of a seasoned general. “Your most powerful spell. Aim for his chest. If we concentrate our magic in the same spot, maybe we can break through his defenses!”

All three ladies began to chant, eyes hazing with arcane energy, giving them all a very identical expression despite the disparity in their appearances. For his part, Locke kept slinging his ranged weapon, though Celes noticed thankfully that he was getting farther and farther back, until he stood behind the triangle formed by the mages.

“ **NOW**!” Celes screamed, bringing her hands forward. “ _Blizzaja_!”

“ _Thundaja_!”

“ _Firaja_!”

As she watched, all three spells hit the self-styled God of Magic simultaneously, and he fell to his knees.

“You… you insects!” Kefka sputtered, shaking.

But he didn’t rise.

“Again!” Celes cried. “On my mark!” She chanted, calling on the strength singing in her blood. The Empire made her into a weapon; that weapon would destroy its last foothold in this broken world. “ **NOW**!”

They cast again, and Kefka howled in rage, blasted into a heap several yards back.

“One more,” Celes whispered, praying her friends could muster the energy. She herself could barely stay on her feet, but collapsing wasn’t an option… not now. Bowing her head, she chanted, visualizing the glacier north of Narshe.

“ _Now_ …”

The mages managed one last barrage, though this was noticeably weaker. Celes felt her legs fold beneath her and barely caught herself as she landed on her knees. Glancing to one side, she grimly noticed that Daryl seemed to have completely passed out. Looking to her right, she saw Terra’s Esper form had faded away, and a very human, very exhausted woman was being carefully lowered to the ground in Locke’s arms.

“Uwee-hee-hee….”

Celes’s head jerked up in horror, and she watched as Kefka pushed to his feet.

“It that the best you can do?” Kefka brushed at his shoulder as if knocking off an invisible piece of lint, an expression half-snarl and half-smile distorting his face as he began to walk closer.

“Who shall be first?” he crooned, looking between the three enervated mages.

With an angry growl, Celes tried -and failed - to push to her feet. She watched in despair as Kefka zeroed in on the collapsed half-Esper. “No…” she whispered, trying again to stand. Angry tears pricked at slate gray eyes when she couldn’t muster up the strength.

“Terra, oh, my treasure; how I’ve missed you,” Kefka sang as he danced closer to the unconscious mage. “I don’t have your crown handy, but I have an even better idea!” His painted features narrowed into a sharp grin, and a shrill little giggle hissed out between clenched, bared teeth. “I’ve been wondering if a mongrel half-breed like you can become magicite?” Kefka circled her prone form in a slow circle comprised of mincing steps as he was still moving to music only he could hear. “Shall we find out?”

He finally stopped, and made a show of pushing back at his sleeves before striking a dramatic pose and starting to chant under his breath. The insane facade was gone; this was Kefka, God of Magic, in his terrifying glory. His irises were obscured by a sickly green glow and a similarly hued arcane nimbus began to gather around his hands as he called up on his energies.

“Be transformed!” he shouted, raising his arms, “Be magicite!” Kefka lowered his hands towards Terra, and Celes could see the magics churning into a massive, crackling orb. With a cackle, he made a throwing motion, and the virulent green sphere shot towards Terra.

“ _No_!” Locke screamed, jumping directly in the path. As Celes watched in horror, he was hit squarely with the ball of energy. The force of the blow sent him sailing through the air. He landed in a heap at the far side of the roof.

“Oh, no, no!” Kefka chortled. “That simply won’t do; a human can’t become magicite! Silly Returner scum!” he said fondly, casting a bemused smile towards Locke’s crumpled body.

Fuck. Celes had to stand. She had to fight. With a deep breath, she pushed from her knees to her feet, though her legs shook with the effort.

“Oh, you want a turn?” Kefka purred, turning towards her and lifting one hand imperiously. Celes saw a miasma of violet swirl around it and wondered what spell he was going to try this time. 

She tried - and failed - to cast a Reflect, and she had no more Ethers on her belt.  She reached for her Runic Blade, hoping that the sheer shock of absorbing whatever massive spell Kefka was concocting wouldn’t kill her.

But then, indescribable pain brought her screaming to her knees.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Kefka had fallen and was howling in agony, rolling on the roof and tearing at his hair. Celes realized what had happened - their friends must have succeeded! It looked like Kefka was hurting more than she was; that made sense, with the connection he’d forged with the Statues. 

Her pain had eased to a dull ache, and she stood again, rushing to Terra.

With two fingers, Celes checked Terra’s pulse, nodding when she felt it - faint, but there. Terra moaned, stirring beneath Celes’s hand. Okay, one benefit to the jolt of pain- it seemed to rouse the mage to consciousness. Celes helped Terra sit up, and spared a brief glance over her shoulder at Daryl and Locke. Both were still collapsed, but Celes had no time to help them now.

She had to strike at Kefka now, while his power was weakened. Unsheathing her Runic Blade, she walked towards the madman, hoping desperately she could stay on her feet long enough.

Kefka looked up at her, teeth bared in a pained rictus. “You _bitch_!” he snarled. “I hate you! Hate you all! You’ll pay for this, you will, yes you will!” He started to laugh between his screams, and Celes actually felt a moment of pity for the man he had once been. It could have just as easily been her Magitek infusion gone wrong - her who lived life as an insane tool of Gestahl.

Celes felt a tired smile tug at her lips, and surprisingly in this moment felt compassion more than triumph. She plunged her blade into his breast and twisted it until she could see clear through his chest. Pulling it free, she grasped the hilt in both hands and brought it down swiftly, decapitating Kefka who was somehow… still laughing.

As his head rolled to a stop, Celes dropped her blade, her shoulders slumping. It was over. He was defeated.

They had won.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe, then turned to check on her friends. Of course _this_ would be the moment the other team would catch up. She laughed bitterly as Setzer, Edgar, and Sabin filed on to the roof.

“Where’s Cyan? Gogo, and Shadow?” she asked briskly as she knelt again at Terra’s side. Celes was grateful when her magic responded to her call, but faintly - she sent thanks to the Goddesses for this last blessing as she case the Cure on Terra.

“Gogo is probably dead,” Edgar said hollowly. “They saved us, but were too close to the blast.”

“Shadow did the same for Cyan and me,” Sabin’s voice was an echo of his twin’s. “Cyan and I got seperated a few floors down.”

While they spoke, Setzer ran across the roof and squatted down by Daryl. “She’s alive!” he shouted. “Unconscious.” He slid his arms beneath her and stood, staggering a bit beneath her weight. “We gotta get out of here!” he shouted as the Tower began to rumble beneath their feet.

“Where’s Locke?” Edgar asked.

Celes swore beneath her breath and stood. “He’s over there. Kefka knocked him out with a blast meant for Terra… Locke saved her life.” She sprinted over to kneel beside the thief and shook his shoulder. “Locke? Wake up, I can’t carry you.”

He rolled bonelessly beneath her hand and she gasped in shock.

Locke was dead.

Celes didn’t even realize she fell backward, landing in an awkward sitting position, nor did she realize tears began to pour down her cheeks. But then Edgar and Sabin were at her side, the former helping her to stand, and the latter hefting Locke’s body.

“We’ll have time to mourn later,” Edgar said gently. “We’ve gotta get to safety.”

Celes nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She leaned on Edgar as they crossed the roof and helped Terra to her feet as well. The three supported each other as they began to descend the rickety stairs.  Parts of the roof’s edge were beginning to crumble away, and they increased their speed in an effort to outpace the destruction.

“The Falcon should still be in place,” Setzer said. “We just need to get to the platform we came in on.” His voice was strained from the effort of carrying his beloved, but Celes knew he’d manage it somehow.

“Let’s hurry,” Sabin said. His voice was steady, but then, he’d trained his strength for years; even carrying a man of Locke’s height wouldn’t be too hard for him.  Celes just hoped he could manage despite the building collapsing around them.

It was three floors down where they found Cyan ripping his shirt into strips and binding a massive gash on his thigh.

“You’re alive!” Terra cried out joyfully.

“Barely,” Cyan’s voice was grave. “And I can’t find Shadow.”

“We have to keep moving,” Celes said numbly. “If anyone can make it out on their own, Shadow can.”

“Gogo seemed to have a knack for taking care of themself, too,” Setzer interjected.

Half the room caved in with a loud rumble. “Right,” Edgar said. “Let’s go.”  They hastened towards the stairs to the next level.

Down and down they went, the structure shaking ominously around them. At long last, they came to the ledge they’d used to infiltrate the stronghold. The rope ladder still hung in place; the Falcon hadn’t been shot down from the sky. Thank the Triad for small favors.

“I can’t carry her up the ladder,” Setzer wailed. Celes felt tears sting her eyes again - she’d never heard the gambler in such despair.

“I can come back for her?” Sabin suggested.

“Just go,” Edgar ordered.

Sabin nodded and slung Locke’s corpse over his shoulder, starting up the ladder.

“You next,” Edgar said to Terra. Celes spared a moment to consider if she should be helping more, doing something other than standing here and weeping on Edgar’s shoulder, but she had nothing left.

Terra climbed up with painstaking slowness, and Cyan went behind her.  Celes could hear the samurai muttering under his breath and knew the journey upward must be hell on his wounded leg.

“I’ll hold her,” Celes said to Setzer. “You need to get up there and get the Falcon ready to move.”

She could see the struggling warring in those violet eyes, but eventually Setzer nodded, his scarred face grim. “Right.” He ascended the ladder with a practiced ease, and Celes turned her attention to Daryl.

Her heartbeat was irregular; her pulse weak. Celes stroked a hand tenderly over Daryl’s snarled hair. “Please don’t die,” she whispered. She reached out to that part of herself that had been there for so long, the fount of her magical strength and came up empty.

“I’ll send Sabin back down,” Edgar said before he began to climb up.

Celes watched him disappear into the air, and then looked back down at Daryl. The pilot’s face was peaceful in unconsciousness, showing a vulnerability Celes had only seen once before. That night at the campfire seemed a lifetime ago. Celes could have never imagined at that point, at that moment, how much this woman would come to mean to her over the following months.

_Oh, fuck_. She’d gone and fallen in love.

Tears were mixed with laughter now, because surely the Goddesses were laughing in the heavens. Celes didn’t have time for all these feelings. She again tried to summon a Cure spell and failed. With a muttered oath, Celes rummaged in Daryl’s belt pouch but it was as equally devoid of restoratives as Celes’s own.  In a last ditch effort, Celes reached into the small drawstring bag in which she kept her share of the magicite - maybe Kirin, or Unicorn would still work - but all she found was ashy green dust.

“…raining…?”

“Daryl?” Celes leaned closer, straining to hear. She’d probably imagined it.

But then Daryl coughed, and those vibrant brown eyes opened, though they were clouded with pain.

“Izzit raining?”

Celes laughed. “I’m crying, you idiot.”

“Rude…” Daryl coughed again, and tried to sit. Celes helped her carefully, one arm wrapped firmly around the other woman’s shoulders. “Where is everyone?”

“On board,” Celes gestured with her chin towards the boarding ladder. “Sabin’s coming back to carry you up.”

“Oh _fuck_ no,” Daryl said before falling into another coughing fit. “Help me up.”

Celes did as Daryl asked, though the mechanic wobbled as much as the collapsing tower.

“The day I can’t climb,” Daryl gasped, “on my own ship,” she wheezed, “is… well, fuck,” she laughed, “not today, okay?”

Celes’s heart swelled with joy. She wanted nothing more than to declare her love, but this was not the time. “Let’s go,” she settled for, squeezing Daryl warmly before releasing her next to the ladder. Once her friend had made it halfway up, Celes began her ascent - and just in time. A backwards glance showed her that the ledge they’d been huddled on moments before had crumbled.

When Celes made it on deck, she quickly scanned the deck, counting heads. Daryl, Setzer, Terra, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan.

Locke’s body.

No sign of Shadow or Gogo, and they hadn’t the time to go back - even as she watched, the tower was falling to pieces.

“Dammit,” she muttered. But, she knew the cost could have been so much higher. While she felt the loss of their two companions keenly, she was grateful that the bulk of their party had come through the conflict alive.

“Setzer!” she called across the deck. “Get us out of here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One to go...
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are folks... the last chapter.
> 
> I won't lie. This has been one helluva journey. I ran out of the gate Nov 1st with no clue what I was doing, but determined to get back into writing with the help of NaNo. As I continued, I got better - I know the first few chapters are a bit rough, and I like to think my progression is discernable the farther you get into this story (as well as if you look at the other works I've created).
> 
> When I wrote the last sentence of this chapter I ugly cried for a solid half hour just because... it's done. And I'm happy it's done! I DID A THING. But part of me is sad too?
> 
> Awakenings will always have a special place in my heart for being the story that got me back into writing. FFVI has always been my favorite video game of all times, and Daryl my favorite unsung NPC - I hope I did both justice.
> 
> Now please, enjoy chapter 40. <3 I'll see you on the other side.

“Sire?”

“I hath told thee time and time again,” Cyan grumbled. “Do not call me that.”

“Sorry. Sir Cyan?”

The de facto ruler of Doma Kingdom sighed heavily. “What is it?”

“There’s an airship parked a mile away from the castle.”

Cyan’s stern features brightened into a smile. It faltered as he realized the reason for the visit, but despite the solemnity of the occasion, he was looking forward to seeing his friends again.

“My thanks,” he said to his steward. “I will be gone for a few days. I trust you to see to Doma in my absence.”

* * *

The afternoon sun was high overhead, beating down unrelentingly on Sabin as he moved through his forms. Sweat glistened on sun-bronzed skin, but that was the only outward sign of exertion as he engaged in his own sort of moving meditation on Mount Koltz.

It was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

Deciding a break was in order, he folded to sit cross-legged on the soft grass, letting cerulean eyes fall shut. He focused on his breathing, pondering the cyclical nature of all things; even those as instinctive as the taking of breath.

The loud noise of propellers cutting through the air jolted him from his introspection, and he looked up at the sky, shading his eyes with one calloused hand. The Falcon was approaching… it had been a year already?

Sabin walked towards the landing ship soberly. It was time to pay his respects and count his blessings.

* * *

“Edgar,” Terra hissed, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up?”

“Whazzat?” Edgar mumbled, only partially residing in the world of the waking.

“I don’t believe you slept in today of all days.”

Edgar winced at the acerbity in her tone. He hadn’t meant to stay abed so long, but knowing what today was… he’d had trouble falling asleep.

“I’m sorry, Terra,” he said contritely. “I’m up now. “Let’s get ready.”

She smiled at him, and he knew with her support, he could get through the day.

* * *

“We’re going to be late,” Celes laughed when Daryl rolled on top of her and straddled her hips.

Daryl grinned down at Celes. “We’re the transportation; we can’t be late.” She bowed forward and captured Celes’s lips in a lingering kiss.

Celes couldn’t help but respond, a tingle not unlike her lost magic singing in her veins. She moaned raggedly when Daryl ground herself down against Celes’s core, arching her hips to increase that delicious friction.

“Not that I mind the delay,” Setzer’s drawl made Celes yelp in surprise, “but we really should be going.”

Daryl smirked at her husband - yes, husband; they’d been joined in the Figaroan rites, neither wishing to go back to Jidoor any time soon. “Surely you can manage a pre-flight check without me, dear heart?”

Cheeks flushed in embarrassment, Celes wondered if she’d ever get used to their unorthodox arrangement. “We should get ready,” she muttered, squirming beneath her lover.

The door shut behind Setzer, and Daryl turned a concerned look on her girlfriend. “Are you okay? Am I being too much?” Daryl’s cheer faded in an instant to melancholy, reminding Celes all too keenly of the depression that had plagued Daryl for the first half of their journey the year before.

“You’re being just enough,” Celes said playfully. “But today is important, and I really don’t want to be late.”

Daryl looked relieved for an instant, but then her familiar roguish grin canted those full lips. She stole a quick kiss before climbing off of Celes, and the bed. “You’re right. To be continued?”

Sliding off the bed, Celes hooked an arm around Daryl’s slim waist and pulled her close. “Count on it.”

* * *

The Falcon’s deck hadn’t seen such a crowd since… well, since _that day_ , Setzer mused as he steered the ship. And still, with their numbers reduced by the last battle, the deck seemed too quiet, too empty.

His pet project, completed at last with help from Daryl and Edgar, was ready to be unveiled; but Setzer had no wish to intrude upon the importance of today’s venture with his own fripperies.

Everyone needed to find something to live for now that crisis mode had passed. Over the last year, the world had begun to live again. The brackish tint faded away from the water, leaving oceans, lakes, and rivers clean and clear. The dizzying orange skies had faded to blue, and the sun shone again on a regular basis. The first time it rained and didn’t sear their skin with acid, the citizens of the world had rejoiced.

For a time, Setzer had been content to simply soar the skies with his lady love and _her_ lady love. They visited their friends, they offered aid to Figaro and Doma, as well as the smaller independent cities of the world, as they were able. But after a while, that familiar itch to create something, to put something into the world that was _all his_ came back. So he had begun designing The Blackjack mark II.

It was finished now and ready for its maiden voyage, but Setzer was waiting until the time was right. He knew Daryl was itching for some time alone with Celes, so Setzer had a mind to invite Edgar along for the launch. He’d become good friends with the King of Figaro over the months of working together on his new ship, and thought he might even let him have a turn at the wheel.

“How’ve you been, Setzer?” Terra asked, resting a hand on his bicep fondly. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed her approach, but he gave her a fond smile.

Terra had changed more than any of the others from their little band of ‘heroes', Setzer mused. No longer gifted with the ability to slip her skin and be something _else_ , it would have made sense if her energy seemed subdued. But no, not their Terra - she was more outgoing and full of life than ever. Motherhood was a good luck on her. Living without the constant threat of a megalomaniacal madman, even better.

“Just fine,” he said with a grin. “Edgar behaving himself?”

“Too often,” she quipped, causing Setzer to throw back his head and roar with laughter.

* * *

Standing at the Falcon’s prow as was her wont, Celes didn’t really see the fantastical skyscapes as they flew. Her thoughts were turned inward, churning with poorly repressed memories that all clamored for attention on this day.

One year ago today, they had defeated Kefka. One year ago today, they had battled under impossible odds, and somehow, emerged victorious.

There were losses.

Locke Cole. Shadow. Gogo.

Those who had fallen before were not forgotten either, for each had done their part.

Strago Magus. Relm Arrowny. Gau.

And of course Mog, who walked a different path with his mysterious yeti friend. Celes wondered if he ever did find more moogles.

A single tear described a winding path down Celes’s cheek - her skin suntanned now from long hours on the deck of the Falcon, rather than her previous snowy pale hue. She still felt she’d failed her friends, despite logic - and Daryl, on many a sleepless night - trying to convince her otherwise.

If she’d paid better attention, maybe Locke wouldn’t’ve gotten caught up in that spell. But if he hadn’t, would Terra be alive today?

For everything there was a cost. Celes was all too familiar with that irrevocable truth.

With a sigh, she shook her wind-blown hair back from her face, pulling a band from her pocket and tying back her unruly golden tresses. She would not stand here and think maudlin thoughts. 

Yes, today was a day for remembrance, maybe tears, but she would _not_ spend the day beating herself up over choices made a year ago, decisions forced upon her too quickly, too chaotically.

She’d done her best. They all had.

The Falcon began its initial descent, and Celes walked across the deck to join her friends. She smiled at each of them at turn as she ship landed.

It was time.

* * *

Edgar cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he agreed he was the best choice to say it. Locke had been his best friend. Maybe they hadn’t gotten to rekindle that friendship as much as Edgar would have liked, after their reunion in that broken world; but Edgar was glad that they faced the end together.

When he began to speak, his voice was rough, those brilliant sapphire eyes shining with unshed tears. “Locke Cole was many things. A thief, though he’d gut me for naming him so.” He paused as the group laughed fondly. “A treasure hunter, always on the lookout for the next big score.” Edgar coughed, trying to ease the tightness in his throat. “A comrade, a brother-in-arms, a Returner.”

Edgar shrugged. “But I prefer to remember him as a friend,” he said quietly. “He did great things for a good deal of people, but what he did for me can never be replaced.”

“ _He was my friend_ ,” Edgar’s voice was taut with intensity. “My best friend; for many years, my _only_ friend. And I miss him.” He couldn’t say any more. As he moved back to stand between Terra and Sabin, he stopped holding back his sobs. The gravestone - etched simply ‘Locke Cole - Remember Him’ - was hazy through the fall of tears, so Edgar closed his eyes and let himself just _feel_.

* * *

Sabin hugged his brother fiercely. He knew that he personally owed Locke a good deal. While Sabin had been off on Mount Kolts training with Duncan, at least Locke had been there for Edgar. Sabin regretted many things about his youthful decision to leave Figaro and seek his own path in life, but regrets changed nothing, so he didn’t tend to dwell on it much. But here in the graveyard on the tiny island once home to Daryl, Celes, and a host of nameless people long gone, it seemed a good time to let his myriad sources of guilt flare up and fight for dominance.

“Sabin. It’s been a long time,” a familiar voice cast in a lilting accent spoke directly into Sabin’s ear.

Turning around, Sabin’s eyes widened. “Gogo! We thought you’d died?”

“Oh, well,” Gogo waved a hand. “I was able to cast a teleport spell I’d learned from Terra. Just in time, too. A moment later, and I don’t think I could have channeled enough arcane energy to teleport a grain of sand.”

“That’s amazing!” Sabin exclaimed, dismal thoughts cast aside in favor of this fucking miracle. “What have you been up to?”

The others gathered around, eager to hear the elusive mimic’s tale.

“Traveling,” Gogo intoned with a dramatic flourish of their cape. “The world is in a sorry state. There is much work to be done; though much has been done in the last year. People are resilient creatures. Another few years, you won’t be able to tell what destruction had been wrought. Another century, why, maybe we’ll have discovered a new way to tap into the world’s latent magic, now that the Statues are gone.”

Sabin shook his head in disbelief. Who’d want magic back, anyways? That would almost certainly just lead to more problems. Power corrupted; they’d seen that first hand with Kefka’s insanity and Gestahl’s greed.

 _Never again_ , Sabin vowed. _Not on my watch._

The friends gathered and many heartfelt words were shared, but slowly, the sadness gave way to more lighthearted remembrance. Terra told the story of Relm cajoling ‘Uncle Ulty’ into posing for the portrait which was his demise. Celes shared an anecdote Sabin had never heard before about a conversation she’d shared with Strago - once the old man had gotten over his initial distrust, he’d been a font of magical knowledge. Edgar spoke quietly of Shadow’s surprising dedication to their cause despite initially being hired on as a mercenary. A moment of silence fell over the group as the realization struck them - well, most of them, Daryl and Gogo wouldn’t know - that an entire family had been lost in this war. Strago, Relm, and Shadow… if there was a life beyond death, maybe they would find each other there.

Young Gau wasn’t forgotten either. Sabin and Cyan regaled their friends with the story of meeting the feral lad on the Veldt. How quickly his keen mind had not only picked up on Cyan’s foreign speech pattern, but had utilized it to poke fun at Sabin. Gau had been a fierce and cunning fighter and had always shone with such blinding optimism despite his tragic upbringing.

At least he’d died doing something he believed in. And he’d be remembered.

Daryl spoke quietly about her parents, her hands clasped supportively by her partners. She mused that she hoped they had found peace at the end; that if their spirits were aware of the events the passed two years, they could find happiness in her happiness, even if it wasn’t the life they’d always dreamed for her to live.

As darkness began to overtake the glorious hues of sunset, the stories faded into silence.

* * *

After the memorial they tried to cram into Daryl & Celes’s old cabin, but it was far too small for so many people. Instead, Sabin built up a bonfire, and the others scavenged chairs from the empty houses. They had provisions brought from the Falcon, and the group settled down for an evening meal as the stars twinkled overhead.

Daryl felt uneasy being back on this island. But she couldn’t deny it was a good resting place for their fallen comrade, when she’d buried so many lost souls here that first year after the cataclysm.

 _That’s over now_ , she reminded herself. Kefka was gone, the world was healing.

 _She_ was healing, though she still had nightmares several times a month. Hey, it had decreased from several times a week.

And waking up from a nightmare in Setzer’s arms, or cuddling up against Celes, made them far easier to bear than when she’d been alone.

Still, Daryl looked forward to a time when she could enjoy untroubled sleep, being awoken by nothing other than her husband’s snores or the sunlight shining in through the portholes.

“It’s been so long,” she said abruptly. “I know we’ve kept in touch, but I want to know more about what you all have been up to this past year.”

“That’s a great idea,” Terra said with a smile, verdant gaze kind as she met Daryl’s dark eyes. “I’ll start.”

Daryl settled back in the rickety chair she’d dragged out from the cabin and got as comfortable as she could to listen.

“You all know the highlights,” Terra began. “You were at the wedding.” She paused to cast a blinding smile at her husband. “What a ruckus that caused. Half of Figaro was appalled at the King taking a commoner to wife. The other half idolized me so much that they practically wanted to give me the throne.”

“It was… exhausting, but exhilarating,” Edgar interjected with a rueful chuckle.

“Madonna is doing well. She’s walking - and running, and climbing, and giving me gray hairs on a daily basis.” Her voice rang with a mother’s pride, only slightly tinged with regret when she spoke again. “I think… she’ll be my only child.” Her eyes cast down to lock on the dancing flames in the firepit. “The advisors council is not pleased with the lack of a royal-blooded heir, but—”

“Fuck them,” Sabin spat, and Daryl was surprised at the strength of the anger in his words. “Those people don’t have to do the real work. They have no shitting idea how much of a sacrifice one has to make. That Edgar made.”

“That will never happen again,” Edgar said firmly. “I know our parents meant well in grooming us for the throne from a young age, but I won’t see my child forced into a destiny before she’s old enough to understand what it means.”

“We’re hoping when the time comes for Edgar and I to step down and enjoy our golden years, Figaro will be ready to be a democracy. Why should the lines of leadership be decided by chance of birth?”

“Fair point,” Setzer drawled lazily. “That’s how Figaro got stuck in its current situation.”

Daryl smiled. Setzer’s playful jab had been perfectly timed to diffuse the growing tension of the conversation, and she felt herself relaxing again.

“I don’t have much to tell,” Sabin said. “Duncan’s dojo survived, and I’ve been living there. I’ve taken on a couple students; we’ll see how they do.” He smiled. “See? Not much to tell. My apprentices and I tried to help Narshe with rebuilding, since they are our closest neighbors, but…” Sabin trailed off, his face troubled. “They didn’t want help from ‘outsiders’.”

A protracted, uneasy silence fell over the group, until Cyan cleared his throat to break it.

“I, too, have been busy with rebuilding,” Cyan said. “Doma hast not chosen a new monarch. The people look to me,” he grimaced in discomfort, “but I am not of the royal blood and have no wish to rule. Henceforth, I will serve my land until my dying breath, but not as king.”

He took a deep drink from his tankard. “Doma has begun to flourish again. A flood of refugees hast joined us, making up for the people we lost in first the poisoning and then the cataclysm. All those who are willing to work are given the chance to prove themselves. And, should they desire it, attain Doman citizenship. But we offer our aid to all, as we are able. We hast rebuilt the castle, and a small town nearby. New fields hast been tilled, and those who desire it are free to work them, but the crops go to all. Our economy is still naught,” he admitted, “we are still sharing all provisions and most of the citizenry doth understand this is not the time for personal material gain.”

“That’s wonderful!” Terra beamed.

“My thanks to you all for your assistance.” Cyan rose from his seat and bowed formally, arms crossed over his chest, before sitting again. “Especially you three,” he looked to Daryl, Setzer, and Celes. “The use of your airship to bring in supplies and provisions has been a lifesaver. I am in thy debt.”

Daryl waved a hand. “That’s what friends are for. My Falcon is your Falcon.” She grinned. “Well, okay; my Falcon is _my_ Falcon, but I’m happy to help.”

Cyan nodded at her gravely, and cleared his throat. “What of you, Gogo? You said you hast been traveling. What news of the world?”

Gogo spread their hands dramatically and shrugged. “It’s much the same everywhere. People are trying to rebuild. Most of the world is caught up in the spirit of working together, but you get your bad apples in every bunch. I’ve taken care of some of those, but I can’t be everywhere.” Another eloquent shrug. “But things are proceeding apace. My biggest concern is how focused some seem on finding a new source of magic. I think our world deserves a break from such things.” They shot an apologetic look at Terra, and Celes. “No offense meant.”

“None taken,” Celes said, Terra nodding her agreement.

“I’ve seen much the same Gogo has,” Celes continued, taking up the narrative. “We’ve been most everywhere, and helped as we can. In a few years, I think things will be back where they were before… well, _before_. Narshe and Figaro have the highest level of technology now that Vector is destroyed and Magitek is gone. Figaro has been generous in sharing their inventions with the world.” Celes slanted an approving smile towards Edgar and Terra. “Narshe has been… well, typical Narshe. They’ve always preferred their isolation, and it’s probably best to let sleeping dragons lie.” She pursed her lips, eyes darkening with concern. “However, most interesting to me given Narshe’s previous attitudes about such things… they are the ones pushing the hardest to try and find a new arcane source.”

“Really?” Edgar asked in disbelief. “They tried to kill Terra just for existing.”

“Really,” Celes nodded. “It’s… troubling. We’re keeping an eye on it.” She smiled, and Daryl could tell it was forced, but respected the effort and decided to jump in and help.

“Which will be easier to do with two airships,” Daryl announced grandly, grinning broadly at the surprised gasps and gaping maws of their friends.

“Way to steal my thunder,” Setzer muttered, but he was grinning too and Daryl knew he wasn’t really upset. Fuck, he’d have never mentioned it, so _someone_ had to.

“Most of us already knew,” Terra said placidly. “Edgar’s been helping build it,” she explained to those who weren’t in the know.

“When’s the test flight?” Sabin asked. “Is it another flying casino?”

Setzer smirked. “Who do you take me for? Of course it’s a flying casino. But - bigger and better than the mark I. As to the first flight, I was… waiting.”

“For what?” Gogo looked at Setzer curiously.

“This,” Setzer said, gesturing around the fire. “My little project isn’t as important as our anniversary, or the memorial.”

“Stop that right now,” Terra said chidingly. Her green eyes were fierce, and for a moment Daryl expected them to bleed into red. “We all have to keep living, or what did we fight for. Your new ship is just as important as everything else.” She looked around and smiled at each person in turn. “I’m so proud of all of you… for living, for doing everything you’ve done. And I’m so glad we were able to come together today.”

“Let’s do it more often,” Edgar suggested.

“Also easier with two airships,” Setzer chuckled.

“Knowing you, dear heart, in time we’ll have a whole fleet,” Daryl said fondly, reaching out to pat his hand.

“Now there’s an idea,” he said, a gleam in those violet eyes.

Daryl shook her head and stood. “It’s late, and it’s been an emotional day. There should be enough beds on the island for everyone to stay. Let’s share a morning meal together… and then I think we should all celebrate the launch of the Blackjack mark II. Together.”

* * *

Setzer was nervous. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time - fuck, not since they re-launched the repaired Falcon after unearthing it from the misnamed Daryl’s Tomb. He desperately wanted a drink or ten, but knew that was a road best left untrod.

Instead he folded his arms and stared around the upper deck of the new Blackjack. The woodwork gleamed, not yet scratched and buffeted by the winds and the detritus they carried. He’d done his pre-flight check. The engines were ready, he had an ample stock of coal, the water tanks were topped off.

Nothing to it but to take off.

He’d demurred his friends’ requests to join him on this. Daryl had been the one to put a stop to that, bless her understanding heart. She knew how momentous this was for him; knew he needed to do it alone.

But not alone - not really.

The Falcon hovered overhead, Daryl at the wheel and their friends all assembled on deck. They’d fly alongside him; with him, but giving him the space he needed for this venture.

_Fucking shit. Enough stalling, Gabbiani._

_It’s time to fly._

Setzer shoved his arms into his heavy coat, settling the familiar, comforting weight over his shoulders. He strode to the wheel, aware that no one could see him but unable to resist spinning with a dramatic flourish of the brocaded fabric when he reached the helm. Powering up the engines, he lifted off, gaining altitude steadily until he was of a height with the Falcon.

_Hasn’t blown up yet. That’s good._

With a laugh painted in pure, unadulterated joy, he began to _soar_.

* * *

Celes’s eyes had often been compared to storm clouds or stones, both for their color and the emotions often showing within their gray depths. But today those eyes sparkled with happiness. She watched as the Blackjack took to the skies, and cheered with all the others when it began to race across the blue expanse. When Daryl laughed and began to chase him, Celes grinned.  

“Find something to hang onto!” she heard Daryl laugh over the gale force winds.  Celes still wasn’t sure how they’d managed to work it all out - but she knew she was lucky, and she never took things for granted.

So much had hung on random chance, had grown from the convergence of… fate? Destiny? Being in the right place at the right time?

What if Celes had woken up on the island to find someone else? If Daryl hadn’t been able to soldier on through her mountain of depression, and had cast herself off that cliff as all the other denizens had done?

Or all alone? Would Celes, too, have given into despair, into hopelessness, and dove off the cliff in hopes of finding peace?

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. _Stop dwelling on the what-ifs and enjoy the here and now_ , she chided herself. Celes struggled against the winds cutting across the deck to stand beside Daryl.

Her girlfriend was oblivious to her presence, and Celes couldn’t blame her. It had been well over a decade since Daryl had been able to race across the skies with Setzer, and Celes’s heart soared as high as their airships to see such wonder and elation lighting up Daryl’s fine-boned features.

Daryl’s arm shot out and yanked Celes against her suddenly, and Celes gasped as Daryl captured her lips in a fleeting, fierce kiss.

“There’s nothing like flying!” Daryl crowed, grinning and turning her attention back to the race.

Tears burned at Celes’s eyes, and she wished this moment never had to end.

* * *

Daryl couldn’t stop laughing despite the soreness of her throat. Her face hurt from smiling so hard, cheeks growing numb from being buffeted by the intense winds of flying so fast for so long.

She fucking loved it.

Seeing Setzer’s ship soaring alongside hers sparked so many memories of their youthful adventures. She was excited to see what new adventures they’d find now.

Daryl shot a quick little glance to where her friends were clustered on the port side, watching the Blackjack’s progress. Celes had joined them, and Daryl’s grin softened into a tender smile when she heard the melodious sound of her lover’s laughter float on the breeze.

The Triad only knew, Celes had been through enough bullshit and deserved some happiness.

The Blackjack and begun to overtake the Falcon again, and that simply wouldn’t do. Focusing, Daryl tipped up the nose of the ship, trying to catch a thermal current and shoot back into the lead.

* * *

To say Setzer was elated would be the largest fucking understatement since ‘perhaps we should be concerned about the Empire’. He was thrilled at how well the Blackjack performed. Despite having flown for nearly four hours, the ship was running smoothly. Setzer had confidence in his mechanical skills, but he’d been naturally concerned over this first flight.

And being able to race with his lover - _his wife_ , Goddesses, who’d’ve thought _he’d_ ever get married? - was so mind-blowingly wonderful he didn’t even have the words to express how happy he was.

But four hours was probably long enough for an untried ship to get a good burn in. He waved to get Daryl’s attention, and when she waved back he signaled in the code they’d developed all those years ago, indicating he was going to land. He navigated to an open plain - he thought it may have been the new Veldt - and touched down with a soft jolt. Excellent. A perfect landing.

He climbed down the boarding ladder and watched as the Falcon descended. In no time at all, his friends surrounding him. Hands clapped him on the back, and a cheerful cluster of voices congratulated him on the flight.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me take the wheel,” Edgar wheedled with a grin.

“Of course,” he said, smirked at the look of surprise on Edgar’s face. “You worked hard on this ship; you earned it.”

After sharing a simple midday meal, they reluctantly reboarded the ships. Unfortunately, they all had responsibilities to get back to. This time, they were divided - Edgar, Terra, and Sabin had joined Setzer on the Blackjack. Daryl would take the others home, and then they would meet.

Where else? At their hill.

Setzer suppressed a flare of deeply-rooted fear, unable to help but remember the last time they’d promised to find each other on that grassy knoll at sunset. But today would be different, dammit. Today, Daryl wasn’t filled with a youthful feeling of invulnerability, pushing the Falcon farther than any ship should be pushed.

And if Setzer maintained a lower altitude that strictly necessary, keeping to a moderate speed instead of racing against the sunbeams - who could blame his caution when haunted with these ghosts of the past?

Sabin’s stop was first, and with hugs and promises to stay in touch via pigeon, they said farewell to the monk. As the Blackjack lifted back off the ground, Setzer watched fondly as Edgar and Terra waved at Sabin. They continued to wave long past the time when Sabin could have seen them, but Setzer wasn’t about to judge them for their sentimentality.

“King Edgar!” Setzer shouted, grinning at the arched eyebrows he was greeted with when Edgar turned to face him. “I thought you wanted to pilot?”

With a beaming smile that reminded Setzer of nothing so much as a kid on Solstice morning, Edgar bounded over to stand beside the helm. Setzer reminded him how the controls worked, and implored Edgar to call him at the _slightest_ concern. Setzer himself set the heading that would take them back to Figaro; Edgar merely had to maintain their course.

The gambler walked over to stand by Terra, who’d taken up position at the prow. The half-Esper woman - did she still count as half-Epser, with her magic stripped away? Setzer decided she did - was standing with her head tipped back, her green hair unbound and streaming behind her like a verdant waterfall, tossed by the air currents. Despite having her eyes shut and certainly having her hearing impaired by the voice of the wind, she heard - or sensed - his approach.

“I’m so happy for you, Setzer,” she said, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Likewise,” he replied, catching her in a side-hug that made her giggle like the girl she was never allowed to be.

“I miss flying,” Terra admitted quietly. “But standing here, like this, I can almost pretend…” Her eyes opened, shining with wistful tears.

“Well, I’ll take you flying any time you want,” Setzer said staunchly. “Daryl, too. Just send for us and we’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was joyful again, and she closed her eyes, tipping her face back into the wind.

* * *

It had been an emotional couple of days. Daryl, alone now on the Falcon - completely alone, Celes had business in Tzen, and Daryl would return for her in a couple days - set her course for the Jidoorian region. The hour of flight couldn’t go quickly enough. It had been wonderful to see all their friends again, but between the memorial and the new set of farewells, she was drained.

When she approached their hill, she frowned. Where was the Blackjack? She figured Setzer would beat her here since it was just a quick jaunt across the ocean from Figaro to Jidoor.

Daryl landed the Falcon and climbed up to wait for her husband. She sat on the soft grass and looked up at the sky, watching as the sunset bled into its myriad hues of russet and orange, crimson and gold.

And then it was dark, a hundred thousand stars shining their pinprick lights overhead - the only illumination since it was the dark phase of the moon.

Daryl pressed a calloused hand to her abdomen, trying to soothe the roiling within. Closing her eyes, she took deep, even breaths. Surely the universe couldn’t be so cruel as to play out the familiar memory in reverse? Hadn’t they earned a fucking break?

But when she opened her eyes, she saw it on the horizon. Daryl’s eyes prickled with relieved tears, and her heart rate slowed. She was pleased that they’d taken the precaution to install lighting for night flight on both ships, or she’d’ve never seen the Blackjack’s approach.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, folding in on herself against the chill of the night. After so long living in that constant state of summer, it was hard to remember to dress for the seasons sometimes. Daryl watched the Blackjack land, and then waited for her beloved’s arrival, looking up and naming constellations. She’d forgotten many of the proper names, but this was like cloud-gazing for her - an idle past time, and she made up her own shapes and images in the starry sky. Look, there was The Airship, and beyond it The Moogle Dance. Over there was Rune Blade, not far from Phoenix.

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” Setzer murmured in her ear, startling Daryl from her reverie.

“You’re right on time,” she breathed against his lips before pressing her mouth to his in a fervent kiss.

They joined together tenderly on that starlit hill, and it was everything that had been stolen from them almost thirteen years ago.

It was _more_ , laden with the experiences they’d endured while apart, intensified by those they’d come through after reunited. It was love - a deep and abiding love, no longer the untried feelings of their youth.  They’d walked a long road to get to this point; undertaken trials no one should ever have to push through. But Daryl didn’t regret a moment of those long, harrowing months. That path had brought her to where she was tonight, on this starlit hill, with this amazing man beside her.

And Daryl couldn’t think of anything else worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. I'm crying again, haha!
> 
> I want to give a few thanks, even if the people I am thanking ever see them :P
> 
> Thanks first and foremost to @Forkbeard, my beta-bro, my sounding board, who has listened to me talk about this story since late October and will probably be glad for a break :P Haha, just kidding. For real though, without his support this story wouldn't have turned out half as good, or probably ever been finished.
> 
> Thanks to @aliatori who is my FFXV beta-san and fandom bestie. Despite being FFVI fandom blind she kept encouraging me to GOGOGOGO, and she helped me fix the ending paragraphs of this chapter in particular. 
> 
> Thanks to @dracoangelica who doesn't know _any_ FF, let alone VI, but also gave me her input on the ending of this story. I was really struggling, guys - I needed all three of these wonderful people to help me get it right. 
> 
> Also thanks to @runicmagitek & @ceruleanhail, the unsung heroes of Awakenings who cheered me on with so many wonderful comments.
> 
> Now, a note I promised in response to @runicmagitek's comment a couple chapters back re: Terra's ending
> 
> Originally, Terra was not going to end up married with an adopted baby. She was gonna be dead. I've always head canon'ed that there's no way she survives the removal of magic from the world since its in her very DNA. But, beta-bro talked me down from this course, so I had to come up with something else for her.
> 
> I recalled a couple instances in the game where Terra ruminated on the nature of love - her conversation with Leo, for example. And I decided that if Terra isn't dying, she deserves to have all her girlish dreams come true. I head canon that she's very naive in a lot of ways, since she never got to have a childhood. So I wanted to let her have love blossom and grow, and since I didn't kill her in the last battle, she gets to be married.
> 
> Baby Madonna's inclusion was also off-outline, because I was horrified that I was killing all those kids, and I needed to let someone survive, okay? >_<
> 
> The other side of Terra's romance are my growing Edgar head canons. I used to _hate_ Edgar. I decided in the course of reading some other fics on here that maybe the game just didn't do him justice. I grew a head canon that rather than a 'ladies man', that was all a facade to hide how incredibly inept/inexperienced he was with romance. So I started to see him as an ideal match for Terra since she never got to date at all (too busy blowing shit up for the Empire) and he never got to have a normal courtship (too busy having people try and arrange a political match). I decided his flirty reputation was cultivated to explain why he hadn't taken anyone to wife, even though the extent of his 'playing the field' was just the flirting, nothing more. So while I never thought I'd head canon Terra  & Edgar together I ended up really loving them together?? I was also originally going to have them make love the night before the battle, but I decided to keep their story more 'sweet and innocent' and focused on the feelings instead of the physical, in contrast to other pairings - Sabin & Celes's brief liasion was purely physical. Daryl/Setzer and Daryl/Celes were both mixtures of emotions blended with physical expression of aforementioned emotions.
> 
> There were two points in this story where I wanted to close circles for Daryl. When she and Setzer finally work through their shit and make love the first time since their reunion, I had it be the same scenario I had laid out in a prior chapter when Daryl was telling Celes about her first time with Setzer: on the airship deck, under the stars. That was intention, and kudos if you caught it.
> 
> And of course the story ending. Daryl's narrative really begins with the airship race & the failed meeting on the hill. The crash, everything that happens. So I found it fitting to end her story afer a race, on that hill, but this time things go as they should.
> 
> Aaaaand now I'm crying again LOL
> 
> All right, my lovelies; I'm going to wrap up this novel-length ending note here. Thank you SO MUCH for reading, kudos-ing, commenting, DM'ing on Tumblr/Discord, etc!
> 
> If you aren't already, I shamelessly suggest subscribing to me on AO3 and/or following me on Tumblr, because while I do plan on taking a bit of a break before starting another new story, I *will* be writing in FFVI fandom again. <3
> 
>  
> 
> _Thank you._


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